At Tom's memorial service last Thursday, we heard from his eldest daughter, Lydia Magliozzi Icke, who wrote a poem commemorating her life with her dad. Before she began she offered us this explanation:
I should tell you before I begin that my father and I shared a long history of limerick writing together, going back to sixth grade when we penned one about a witch making a stew out of a kangaroo that hopped to Kalamazoo… you get the idea. So I thought it was only fitting that my words today be a limerick of sorts. And while I may not have achieved the iambic pentameter Dad would have admired, I’d like to share this with you.
An Ode to My Father
My dad was a man who defied
Any labels no matter who tried.
An MIT engineer
With a varied career
A non-linear life, bona fide.
In my childhood years I would dread
That next crazy idea in his head
Getting picked up at prep school
Feeling thoroughly uncool
In a ‘56 Chevy, bright red.
Harvard Square was a place he adored
In my formative years we explored:
We bought pens at Bob Slate
At Blue Parrot we ate
The wandering was our reward.
On Sundays by Grammy’s kitchen sink
Dad shored up my math skills which stink.
Then he’d retire downstairs
Into Pappy’s old chair
To do New York Times crosswords in ink.
After Dave became my fiancé
Just for him, Dad authored a survey.
A psychographic profile
Dad thought very worthwhile
To vet the in-laws’ DNA.
And when Grandpa Tom he became
I watched each of our children lay claim
To his hair laugh and gait
Traits not taught, just innate
Strong Magliozzi genes are to blame.
The end of Dad’s journey was fraught
All too painful and leaving us wrought.
But through every phase
Even on his last days
His true essence we never forgot.
I know just how you’d want me to close
My ode to your final repose:
With a loving embrace
And a pie in the face
And a bunch of whipped cream up your nose.