Father Figured

Written for my dad and performed on his 60th birthday, a rap biography.

In the dying days of the Second World War
When the worst forms of hatred were perched on Europe’s door
The courage of working poor insurgents forged the way
Before the foreign forces came to break the German storm
And when the liberators came a certain Prisoner of War
Named Dirk Brinkman was saved from mortal danger and informed
That the German orders making his date to face the Lord
Just two days later, would be blatantly ignored
So Dirk returned to the farm, and the days turned warm
And a few months later, baby Dirk was born
Dirk was Dirk’s firstborn, and Dirk was Dirk’s firstborn
And Dirk’s firstborn was Dirk the Fourth
Dirk the Fourth is currently bringing these words forth
And Dirk the Third, of course, is the birthday boy
Now, if you find this verse annoying or circulatory
Like you’ve heard it before, or if it hurts your circuit boards
Like it’s verbal purgatory, just give me an early warning
I’m just trying to work the story and make his birth historic
I think it’s important to unearth the origins
Of the first herbivore with a personal workforce
For the purpose of restoring the world’s forests

Dirk was born in the first morning light
After a World War like a long night
They say it’s always darkest before the dawn, right?
Well a charmed life was waiting for this little blonde tyke
He went from the dikes and the Zaan and Bevervyk
To a new Canadian life in Bowmanville
And he was soon so at home that he let Oma know his will
When she tried to scold him in his own language he would just shout
“This is Canada; I don’t speak Dutch now!”
And even today I’m certain Dirk is nothing but proud
Of getting cussed out by teachers for being such a tough child
And he’s especially proud of sending one to the nuthouse
Better ask him yourself if you want to know just how
He never went to Cub Scouts, but Dirk lucked out
His mother pumped out five brothers for him to roughhouse
And four sisters, which meant a dozen around
The table at dinner when it was time to eat
Now, I know something about sibling rivalry
But this was competition in the highest degree
A job for civilian riot police
These are the humble roots of the Brinkman dynasty
A tribe of people living like a hive of bees
With busy minds and extremely limited privacy

For Dirk, the need to write and read
Was like a scurvy seadog’s need for Vitamin C
Or the need for drink in alcoholics, so in ‘65
He left the rest of the kids behind and went to Calvin College
To study Christian sciences and get some self-knowledge
And he fell in with some hippie-types among his fellow scholars
And made a movie proving that art is politics
And almost graduated as a distinguished Theologist
He was ready to finish with Honours, but the only problem was
The final assignment offended his mystical thoughts
Write an essay proving the existence of God?
Now this pissed him off; it wasn’t his job
To synthesize religion into simplistic dogma
So he just dropped out, one credit short of his degree
And instead he headed north to explore B.C.
And find some decent work in forestry

Now, if you think Dirk started off with re-forestation
You’re mistaken; this is no distorted glorification
Dirk’s former place in the forest involved a chainsaw
Up in Mackenzie clearing floodplains off
Like a starving dog, cut off from the food chain
Dinner was ready when the next moose came
Into shooting-range; see, what they used to do was hang
Dozens of chewy blue steaks from a laundry line
And then try to make them last for a very long time
This Neanderthal life wasn’t very advanced
Which may explain his switch to vegetarian camps
Dirk’s first experience planting trees was the remedy
For spending freezing winters wasting his energy
Severing limbs and amputating his extremities
(He once cut off one of his toes in Mackenzie)

But in 1970 Dirk found a new path
All he had was a hoe-dad and his bootstraps
And two sacks of trees and a beat-up crew-cab
But he managed to attract good people to his camps
So he soon had to add expansion to his plans
‘Cause thirty crews can plant more than three crews can
But his new supervisors would need two hands
Free, hence the need for an executive branch
And so Dirk had to learn a new dance
And fit himself with a pair of suit pants
And soon the man who was known to his friends
As a back-to-the-land tree-planting Superman
Soon began to resemble Clark Kent tremendously
Assuming management duties and the presidency
And orchestrating the ascendancy
And metamorphosis of his business resources
Into an enormous corporate entity
At the forefront of an industry
That he pretty much invented in its infancy

But is this really what we’re here to celebrate?
Dirk’s place in the world as silviculture’s Bill Gates?
I’ll try to tell it straight if you ask me this
What happened to the natural mystic activist?
Is this the story of a glorified capitalist?
What about peace, love and happiness?
Well, as for love, that’s what his family is
And all the good friends that he planted with
And friends that planted with people that he planted with
Whose antics filled up his camps with kids
Conceived in canvas tents lit by candlesticks
And that’s why my dad’s a philanthropist

And as for happiness, first of all it’s
Probably the first thing that Dirk would call his
Business, which is bliss for workaholics
But peace, I’m afraid, has yet to arrive
Unless you describe his frenetic drive
To achieve sustainability worldwide
Environmentally as a “peaceful mental vibe”
Maybe in 25 years he’ll set aside
Some time to meditate and finally rest his eyes
But that can wait; for now he gets his exercise
Going like a boat at full-throttle; that’s his
Comfort zone; he has a whole lotta passion
Knows a whole lotta facts, and teaches role-model classes
And even looks wise with his coke-bottle glasses

See, I’m doing my best to make this story accurate
It’s the story of a man with unique abilities
Conceived beneath the shroud of Nazi hostilities
Who studied scripture and lyrical soliloquies
And fell in love with nature, but couldn’t feel at ease
Unless he kept his hands as busy as a millipede’s
A visionary who developed the means
To oversee the planting of a billion trees
And fulfill his dreams, but he isn’t done dreamin’
‘Cause Dirk is more than just the sum of his achievements
And more than the degree to which people believe in him
We’ve been through a few seasons and had a few disagreements
But recently I’ve found new reasons to give him respect
He’s been a success for years, but he isn’t finished yet
It’s because he isn’t working for his own benefit

I started writing this poem in a jet
Knowing I’d be home in a bit; I put pen to paper
In an attempt to explain this man’s generous nature
But four days later I’m starting to see it plain
It’s just too deeply ingrained to be explained
So I guess the best I can say today is thanks
And ask all of his present friends to raise drinks
And celebrate a man of great heart and great strength
If each person’s life on this earth is a day’s length
Then let Dirk’s be just a little ways past noon
Give this man some room to do what he has to do
Let him begin to see his plans bloom
As green plants grow in the lands that he passes through
And then let him enjoy the rest of his afternoon

July 2005

© Baba Brinkman



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