OUR FATHER HALLOWED BE THY HANKIE(L Douglas St Ours) OUR FATHER HALLOWED BE THY HANKIE


I always carry a hankie in my back pocket, in case I need to blow my nose.
But the younger generation considers this practice grotesque and archaic.
If they carry a hankie at all, it is as a decorative accessory.
It appears the good old fashioned use of the hankie
has gone the way of gentleman's sabers.

During my youth, in the days before women's liberation,
it was only the girls with their issues
who preferred the use of tissues.

After our father barked at us to "straighten up those backs!"
Me and my brothers lined up and snapped to attention,
stiff and stuffed in our itchy wool coats
like nervous dressing pushed into a turkey
about to get thrown into the oven for a roast.

Dad leaned over and grasped the shoulder of my youngest brother
then zipped up his coat till Robert yelped "Ouch! You pinched my neck!"
Me and my other brother grimaced, instinctively fretful, rigidly bracing
knowing that our throats would be next to get the hangman's treatment.

Then dad noticed our three noses oozing mucous from our nostrils to our chins.
Pop naturally reached behind and pulled from his back pocket his snot damp hankie.
"Gimmee those noses!" He pinched each of our honkers with that used up rag,
instructing us in turn to "Blow! Again! Harder!"
Then he wiped - though it felt more like a scrubbing - the glacial phlegm
off our faces leaving our skin raw, sore, and pink.

Dad examined us again and spotted specks of food in the corners of our mouths.
We winced when he said "gimmee those faces again!"
He then moistened with his tongue that same old hankie
and dabbed that rag so hard, it felt like he was hammering our lips.

Figuring the worst was over, we breathed collective sighs of relief.

But then, uh oh, dad noticed our hair wasn't properly parted,
so he yanked out a comb from that same moist pocket
and raked each of our heads till our scalps turned red.

Then he stepped back to be sure we were perfectly pressed, tucked, and tight for a visit to our Nana.

It was only moments later, she'd greet us with a smile, a hug, and a wet lipstick kiss
planting a heart shaped stain on our hankie smeared cheeks.



by L DOUGLAS ST OURS
March 2010

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