I didn't know my friend Hall's father, Jim Lovell, as well as I might have liked to. I know that he liked birding - we went together, he and I and Hall and his wife, Hall's mother, she in a wheelchair. She counted off more birds than any one of us. The too few times I visited Pete and Hall on my own, Jim would take us all out to dinner. He was a nice man. He was a learned man. He was an English professor, in his working days, and we might have had some delightful conversations had time and chance allowed. But not too long ago, time ran out. And when it did, Hall posted this poem to a group of us. I share it here with her permission.
THE PURPOSE OF FATHERS
(To Hall)
Something about the way
A bird flew
Reminded me of you:
The leap into vacancy
From a safe limb
On an airy whim,
Trusting the world to contain
Something to seize:
The reason for trees.
Jim Lovell