Tom Gage, the great Olympian and model human, died in mid-July, but a memorial service was held over the weekend. His daughter, Ali Gage Kershaw, posted on this site a poem she wrote and read at the service. “I thought sharing it might allow some of you to get a glimpse at the great man I proudly call Dad!” she wrote. Since folks might miss the poem, it is reprinted here for greater visibility.

My Dad’s Way

My dad’s way of saying “You’re just like me!”
“Rotten apples don’t bounce far from the tree”
The back-handed compliment I loved to hear
The two of us chuckling and sharing a beer

My dad’s way of making a wrong joke right
With his dialects, mannerisms… such a sight!
Never worried how many times we’d heard it before
Somehow he still managed to make us roar

My dad’s way of scaring-off the young boys
He said “No worries, son, this rifle is just ONE of my toys”
They would cower and tuck tails quickly and shyly
While my dad stood watching and smiling wryly

My dad’s way of always finding something to learn
“Look it up in the encyclopedia” he would say, quite stern
“Okay, dad… the word ‘neighbor’ is German and means
Near-dweller… Now, can I eat the rest of my beans?”

My dad’s way of enjoying a good storm roll through
Watching the grey clouds take over the blue
Torching his pipe and kicking up his feet
Patting his thigh for me to take a seat

My dad’s way of needing to throw heavy things
His competitive nature, the happiness it brings
To those who admire and watch in great awe
“The Scream” makes viewers question what they just saw

My dad’s way of camping, fishing, hunting and hiking
He even tackled the Beartooth by biking
Cross-country skiing, the only man that I knew
Who would ski knee-deep to build an igloo

My dad’s way of wearing his plaid flannel shirt
Somehow, from scratchy to soft it would convert
Within a hug that engulfed me in an instant, like that
And often paired with his favorite black hat

My dad’s way of braving me leaving our home
“Do you have a quarter? While you’re out, while you roam?”
I’d nod and say, “Yes, of course, Dad… I’ll call if I need”
And with a final, “Make good decisions” he’d hope I would heed

My dad’s way off making a square, flat-tipped nose endearing
At me, his sparkling blue eyes would be peering
From under his fluffy blonde eyebrows that didn’t match
His shock of black hair, I would brag, “My dad is a catch!”

My dad’s way of calling me “Pooh” or “Pooh Bear”
Always said tenderly, with a great amount of care
He called me that, he told me, because of my simple ambien online mind
Said with appreciation, admiration… his “one of a kind”

My dad’s way of fixing cars in the garage
When not going well it was an absolute barrage
Of curse words, a whole slew… long and quite robust
But he would figure it out, fix that thing, after he fussed

My dad’s way of never giving up, on things or on me
When stuck on a problem and wanting to flee
He’d quote “Never, never, never, never give up,” from Churchill
I hear my dad and those words when I don’t have the will

My dad’s way of then saying, “With you I never worry.”
“You’re like a cat… even when life is quite blurry”
He’d say with confidence and truly upbeat
“You, my dear daughter, always land on your feet”

My dad’s way of being so stubborn and resourceful
Somehow he managed to be both without being forceful
He did things with such determination and heart
Never afraid to tackle an issue, a challenge… always ready to start

My dad’s way of serving coffee like mud, no fluff
Stronger than strong… and black… some of you know the stuff
And that’s who he was… hefty, hearty and thick
Healthy I thought… I mean, the man never got sick

My dad’s way of brewing beer completely from scratch
Oh my gosh… my mom, once, blew-up a batch
Molasses spotted our kitchen for a few days
But my dad merely chuckled, to him it did not phase

My dad’s way of moving… the mannerisms that were just him
Like pushing his hair behind his ear when it was in need of a trim
Or the way he held his pipe while he chewed on the tip
He’d give the smoke and extra puff off the end of his lip

My dad’s way of squeezing me ever-so-tight
These moments filled with pride and love… everything so right!
No other place in the world I’d rather be
Than in my dad’s bear hug… him holding me

My dad’s way of thinking he would somehow live forever
And I’d think to myself, “Well, now isn’t that clever?”
Such a wishful, silly thing to think and feel
Didn’t he know that dream wasn’t real?

My dad’s way was a way like no other
Not like his mom, his dad or even his brother
But a way to live life, a way all his own
He lived and played HARD right down to the bone

My dad’s way is a way that lives forever within me
The rotten apple definitely did not bounce far from that tree
I don’t know in which moments this great loss will hit… or where
But my love for my dad… well, there is nothing so deep, so rare

And nothing in this world will ever compare!

Loving you Always and Forever, Dad!

~ Your Pooh Bear