IN THE STARTING GATE

My father had lots of engaging traits--

Maybe its the fact of watching the meet at Saratoga each day and hearing some expressions that I have not heard in years. And laughing to see that they are still current. My father could sit down with them today and expound as well as any on the horses-- their dams and sires, their form, their starts, their trips, their traits--wants to set the pace, wants to come from behind.

The touts and commentators reminded me of Norman's habit of using phrases in daily speech associated with racing or gambling or boxing. When I was older --long after he had left us-- I sometimes found myself in a heated discussion, I would use those phrases too because they came so readily to mind. Once a dorm mate in college commented that I sounded like a character in a Damon Runyon Story; that made me laugh.

  But over the years I have seen that these expressions held a kind of coded advice and wisdom in them that he was trying to share with me.

Here are just a few that I  remember:

TAKE THE LONG COUNT
ENJOY THE RIDE
CLASS WILL TELL
TRY A SHOW PARLAY
IN THE STARTING GATE
ACCORDING TO FORM
EARLY SPEED TIRES
COME FROM BEHIND
CAN TWO LOSERS MAKE A WINNING PARLAY?
MONEY IS SMART
WATCH THE LATE ODDS
PAT DAY MEANS PAY DAY.

Some of these I have contextualized in a poem. I already shared the poem that I wrote and published --his boxing advice
TAKE THE LONG COUNT see BLOG ENTRY for July 13, 2018

Here is another  poem that grew from my recalling a time when my father in his track lingo  warned me against  rushing to judgment with out considering the arc of a person's life experience.


IN THE STARTING GATE

Yes, we were often in a bar or tavern
or tap and I was with my Dad.
He would offer to get some bread or milk
or meat for supper and bring me along
to allay any fears  my mother had
that he would go astray.

What was astray to him?
Cards, poker, a bar with a bookie
and card game in the back room. 
I was part of the package.
I loved being taken for a ride,
then a quick run into a dim cool place.

Usually I sat up at the bar
drained a fizzy soda with a cherry on top
while he turned over three cards.
Win or lose we'd jump back into the car,
grab the needed groceries, run up the backstairs,
burst into our kitchen laughing and smelling like roses.

One time it must have gone on
past three cards--me sitting on someone's lap.
Maybe I complained about his breath,
his smell, how his beard scratched my neck.
My father took me up,stroked my hair,
"Darling," he said,"that man is near the finish line.

 He is stumbling a bit. He wasn't always like that--
You should have seen him in the starting gate--
He was magnificent."



Somehow, I can see now that this was about aging -- as my own  health and energy are diminished.  I am often astonished that people are judging me negatively because of those marks of age that are showing now so near the finish line.  They did not see how cleanly I broke from the Starting Gate.