I want to tell you about my dear father, the Reverend James McCloy.
He is the finest man you’ll find, and he’ll bring you such joy.
He was once known as Dad or Jimmy or Jim
But now we call him “Papa” — and everyone loves him.
Quick with a smile and his eyes all a-twinkle,
He’s steady of heart and can smooth out any wrinkle
You might have with work or a spouse or a friend.
He’ll stick by your side all the way till the end.
Now, you should know Papa is a man of independent thought
Who has said a few things that he shouldn’t have ought.
Like the time we were strolling the Back Shore in Maine,
When he turned to a couple we’d just met, and proclaimed,
“This island has been ruined by attorneys from Manhattan.
It used to be nice here, until all of that happened.”
The husband replied, “Oh, really, that’s funny, we’re lawyers, us two.”
Then his wife chimed in: “Oh, by the way, we’re from New York, too!”
A 100% Scotsman, Papa can’t resist a good deal,
Even if that means driving a car that will squeal
From brakes that need fixing or a fuel pump gone bad.
He’ll tell you about some bargain mechanic to be had,
Most of them an hour away in the Merrimack Valley,
Who’ll fix up your car and when it comes time to tally
The bill will be less than you thought you would pay,
(Of course, you’ll go back several times before it’s fixed the right way.)
Some hot summer evenings you’ll see him headed up Nugent’s Stretch
Leading a long line of cars with drivers who kvetch,
“Who is that guy driving that blue pickup truck?
I wanted to get home for supper and now I’m sh*t out of luck.”
That is our beloved Papa, I would tell them, if I only could.
He’ll teach you a thing about what’s right and what’s good,
Like kindness and loyalty and hope and good courage,
Or the lawnmower he found at the dump that’s in storage.
He’ll tell you about his dark-haired beauty named June,
For whom he would fly all the way to the moon.
He’ll share a story about his grandchildren; his pride it shows.
All the way from Andrew James down to Nina Rose.
For years, he pursued his calling as a Congregationalist preacher
And now he’s beloved as a substitute teacher.
Occasionally, the local church will invite him in on a Sunday
When he’ll always have something profound and interesting to say.
Loved by all from Rockport to California to Barbados,
Papa leaves his unique and indelible mark wherever he goes.
Clearly these words only scratch at the surface
Of a dignified man who has lived his life with purpose:
To keep up the faith and have something kind to say
And loan me his truck to go to the dump on Saturday.
Seriously, though, Papa, you’re the greatest man alive.
Whoopee! Hooray! We love you! You’re Seventy-Five!
From your son, Andrew, with love and affection.
-June 5, 2009
