Microcomm Publications - Poetry: Boy Scoots Off Chair

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Boy Scoots Off Chair
(it truly started with Morse Code)
Copyright © 2013 by Dr. H. Paul Shuch

I was in the Scouts. My dad was teaching me Morse Code.
I could not anticipate, a few years down the road,
That I'd become a radio ham, and use this every day.
At thirteen years of age, this seemed to me like simple play
In mastering the alphabet, a letter at a time,
Pretending we're detectives, using code to solve a crime.

In my father's studio, in an office chair with wheels,
I was scooting all around. You know the way it feels
Almost like you're flying? I was really ADD.
Although there wasn't such a diagnosis then, that's me.
Being hyperactive wasn't really such a sin.
Today, I'm sure they'd have to dose me up with ritalin.

Dad would send Morse Code to me, a letter at a time,
My Boy Scout book in front of him. I'd copy every line,
And then read back the message. It was adolescent's play
To practice Morse Code with my dad, an hour every day.
And, if I missed a letter, that was fine with me, because
It wasn't hard to guess from context what the message was.

Dad was sending steadily, when I decoded "BOY".
Then a pause, then "S_C_O..." I'm starting to enjoy
Where he's going. All at once, he sent another "O".
This is not exactly where I thought that he would go.
Then he sent "T_S". I smiled, because I knew full well
That my dad, an immigrant, had never learned to spell.

When he sent "O_F" I was delighted to discover
"Boy Scouts of America" right there on my book's cover.
Then Dad sent another "F" and caught me by surprise!
I expect he lost his place, is what I did surmise.
So I scooted 'round the office floor, from here to there,
Copying the last word. I was stunned, for it was "CHAIR"!

I read back the message to my Dad. "Boy Scoots Off Chair!"
I guess he'd been noticing what I'd been doing there.
Rolling all around, I knew his spelling was exact,
Giggling so much then that I had a laugh attack.
Laughing so, I lost control, me being just a kid --
Because my father's message is exactly what I did.

Half a century has passed. The memories never fade.
I had learned the code at last, and really made the grade.
That's my fondest memory of time spent with my dad.
When he died, the image made me smile, though I was sad.
He gave me something lasting, though back then no one could say.
That I'd become a radio ham, and use code every day --
And doing so, think back about my father, every day.

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