I’ve been victimized by my children.
Again.
It’s always something.
Sometimes it’s whispered family stories, told in low tones while I’m “napping.”
Well, I am napping… but I’m also awake!
I hear the sighs, the laughter.
Then I hear my name—well, title:
“Then Daddy went berserk and yelled at us.”
Apparently, most of their childhood was spent living under the reign of a lava-crusted berserker.
A new narrative. Totally unfamiliar to me.
Sure—once, in a moment of calm clarity, I handed two of my daughters knives and told them to settle their bickering once and for all.
But I did it very calmly. Very gently.
Not all their victimization is fictional, I’ll admit.
Sometimes they do things “for my own good.”
Always out of love. Always thoughtful.
And I do appreciate that. Mostly.
Scene One:
On the Cutting Room Floor
Not long ago, my wife heard about auditions for movie extras.
She thought I’d love it.
I do not love it. I have never loved it.
Absolutely not interested.
Then she said the film was Jack Kerouac’s “On the Road.”
I paused.
Eventually—after two firm “no’s,” a callback, a promise of chauffeuring, and a casting director who nearly cried—I said yes.
I dressed as a drunk beat poet from the ’40s and sat in a smoky bar for the final scene.
Fifteen seconds of fame.
Later, I was cut.
Replaced by a shot of a typewriter.
Scene Two:
The God Voice
More recently, one of my daughters volunteered me again—this time to a producer seeking poetry readers.
She told him she was an actress,
but that her father had “God-like vocal qualities.”
(It’s true: I once played the Voice from Above in a community college production.
I call it my late-night jazz FM voice.)
She nudged.
I resisted.
Then, as always, I gave in—because they know when I’m interested.
Scene Three:
The Mic and the Poem
I called the producer—a retired gentleman, about my age, with a mission to record English-speaking poets.
He believes that poetry should be heard aloud.
I completely agree.
So far, he’s enlisted around fifty readers—some published poets, all poetry lovers.
He suggested I start with Donald Hall.
I looked him up. Liked what I found.
Then I mentioned Richard Brautigan.
He paused.
“Wow. I haven’t thought of Brautigan in years. But yes… he should be recorded.”
So now I’m on his contact list.
I may show up at his recording studio.
The project? It’s called Voetica.
Please, poke around. Let me know what you think.
But don’t say I volunteered.
A Work Progressing 