My Father’s Voice

My father, Jim Brobin: 2/15/35 to 9/16/17

You’ve probably heard the stories of “my father’s hands” before, but my father’s voice to me is so much more.

You heard him in school from down the hall talking about DNA, frogs and a bird call.

No students dared sleep in his class; You listened to him from day one until the last.

If you were foolish enough to sleep or say something dumb; The infamous yardstick hitting the desk echoed in your eardrum.

His voice made friends all along the way from Ely to Slovenia to Santa Fe.

He also sang around the campfire; His wonderful bass, we all admire.

You heard it booming from across the pool; He would yell, “hup, hup, hup!” as you swam like a fool.

His swimmers all heard Brobinisms from “Humor me” and cakeater” to “We’re approaching that time, let’s immerse thy bodies in thy water.”

“If it was easy we’d call it football” and “champions are made not born,” say it all.

Everyone who has heard Jim’s Brobin’s voice will not soon forget “Do it to it, Folks” and all the rest.

Natalie Brobin Bonfig
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