My dad taught me how to
Make a drink when I was
Eight years old.
He wanted to cut down
On the trips he’d have
To make to the kitchen
During The Ed Sullivan Show.
At least that’s what he said.
He told me to fill the
Tumbler with ice and
Add two-thirds booze
To one third non-booze
He liked to mix it up
One day he brought home
A white housecoat and a
Snap-on black bowtie
Soon I was making tips
From him and his friends
As I ran the bar during
Bar-b-ques and parties
I could make a Gin Fizz
A Rob Roy and a passable
Martini by the time I was
Eleven and by the time
I was thirteen I was tending
Bar at the Red Indian mixers
That my dad had started
Attending after my mom
Left him…us to our own
Devices. He started hanging
Out at the Krill Club and
I would drive down to pick
Him up after work before
Dinner time. I had to sit on
Three telephone books to
See over the wheel but no
Body ever stopped me or
Said a word about it.
After mom left dad didn’t
Stay home much and by
Sixteen I was working
On a tuna boat out in the
Channel where nobody
Expected me to make a
Drink except to toss a
Cold one from the ice
Chest and make sure
The lines weren’t crossed.

RD Armstrong