One Way In Which My Job Is More Fun Than Most -- And I Hope My Mother Shows This Sonnet To My Father

I work for the same outfit who employed
My father through the years I was a child.
There are few left who knew him. Most enjoyed
His presence, voice, laugh and the way he smiled
His way through all, even the roughest calls,
E'en when like a defensive line they heaped
Upon and buried him. Each one recalls
An anecdote about him. All are steeped
In humor and in long-forgotten lore
From days in which the difference was great
Between what was and was not proper for
A worker for our great ol' Cowboy State.
Today a few old farts came by , so glad
To see me and to pass on jibes at Dad.