The #1 dad rises to speak
by Justin Lacour
i am intrigued by this process where certain bad memories are replaced by minor plot points
from To Kill a Mockingbird. my grandfather called an unbelievably good situation a “klondike.” i
am uncertain of the root of this phrase, but surely today is a klondike for the children have school,
yet somehow, i am off of work. i would very much like to eat a mushroom to help me grow from
my present height to at least 5’7”. i would gladly trade all recollection of my car crash for Little
Chuck Little’s chivalry or Scout cursing at the supper table, damn the ham, et al. At the judgment, i
hope God looks like the panhandler i gave leftovers to, not the panhandler i drove past after making
eye contact. Though some say to do for one is to do for all, this is noncanonical. i have a protestant
wife, yet we never get into it about faith versus works, for my works will never be enough, like my
faith will never be enough. The one thing i can hope for is mercy. And what if Odysseus went to the
trouble of tying himself to the mast only for the sirens to sing that little-miss-can’t-be-wrong song?
It’s best not to expect too much of the world; it is disappointing because it is not ultimate. i may
need someone in my life i can call little-miss-can’t-be-wrong. my wife is a good candidate, though i
already call her daredevil. When Atticus had to shoot the mad dog, it made me realize many things.
When you’re a father, you can’t just hope the monster will turn around and go away.
Justin Lacour lives in New Orleans with his wife and three children and edits Trampoline: A Journal of Poetry.
"The #1 dad rises to speak" is his first appearance in The Itch.
