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June 16, 2019

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Thank you for telling this story filled with history and for sharing the small things that reveal two big personalities (your father’s and yours!). I especially love learning about the nickname “laddie buck” and how you put a positive spin on snoring. As both a teller and listener of “lovely lies,” I delight in continuing the tradition. Your own skill and care are beautiful tributes to your father and the influence he had on you.

Thanks, Patrick. I know he was delighted that you were named for him, though I imagine your memories of him are faint.

patrick's comment says what I would like to...I'll just add that you were lucky to have the father you did Terence, and he was lucky to have you as one of his children, your poems and stories bring him to life and keep him there...

To Teri, from Marty

I remember your dad and mom being in our house in Ireland in 1958. So seeing your picture and reading your poem brought back some happy memories.

Thank you again, Marty Dawson.

The "how they spent their days" line running through this wonderful Terence Winch poem is something I thought a lot about today re my own dad: milk truck driver, cab driver, salesman, finally a postman. The long days in delivering--whether milk or human bodies or The Pitch or essential mail-- the long days as in the poem clearing sidewalks or boilers, all to Keep It Together for family... we the beneficiaries able to write these things today.

Good to hear from you, Marti. I thought that was your brother Neil in the photo, but I sent it to Martin Flynn, who said he thought it was you.

Thanks, Michael.

Absolutely right, Jerry.

Absolutely right, Jerry.

light as cream puffs

the lovely lie

wonderful

Thanks Terry.

Thank you, Ms. Campbell.

Thank you, Ms. Campbell

Now I see where you and your bro got your sense of humor! Vivid and heartwarming memories in the poem, Terry. All the best, Betsy O

Thanks, Betsy. (The Vega he's playing is the one I have had since he died.)

Lucky song to have these words, not to mention the subject, Paddy, luckiest.
Watching him fall asleep, the Daily News--supreme!

Danke, mein Freund.

O Terence,
What a lovely, sweet poem of a truly dear dad! The best when he pretended not to recognize you after the bath. That fabulous Irish sense of humor that you've inherited.
And I love your mother's maiden name!

Thanks, Maureen. Great to hear from you.

Terence Winch's writing unfailingly rewards anticipation of the next: his next BAP blog entry, his next volume of verse, his next book of prose, all ensorceling us with their unforced acumen and evocative language. "Custodian" was published twelve years ago in THE BOY DRINKERS. The passage of time has only deepened that poem's power. We need more writers of Terence's skill and seeing--in the moment right now and, yes, in the next.

Dad,
This is a great poem about your dad. I wish I could have known him, and now I think I owe you a poem!
Love,
Michael

Thank you, Michael. You have always reminded me of him. And he would have totally loved you (and not just because you're such a great musician).

Thank you, my friend. Is there any chance of your becoming the New Yorker's next poetry editor?

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