"Blame Uncle John"

Since I can’t be at my brother’s 50th birthday roast, I wrote this poem in his…er…”honor”!

“A Motherʼs Words of Warning to Her Children”

by Johnʼs little sister Cheri

Your mother thinks girls absolutely do math,
Sheʼs often sarcastic, sardonically laughs.
She reckons dark chocolate is sine qua non.
Like brother like sister, so BLAME UNCLE JOHN.

Your mom fears the contents of closets at dark;
Stays clear of the ocean for fear of sand sharks.
She still has no clue where the Rook cards have gone;
For all this and more, you must BLAME UNCLE JOHN!

Your mom begins weeping at sauce oʼtabasco,
Due to a cruel “cherry juice” jar fiasco.
Itʼs been forty years since that heinous con.
He should feel ashamed, as we BLAME UNCLE JOHN!

He taught you a card game called “fifty-two pickup”;
Held up a small branch, shouting, “This is a stick up!”
If your sense of humor makes friends groan, “Cʼmon!”
You know where it came from, now. BLAME UNCLE JOHN!

You got into trouble for bird of the Foo,
Told all about Nate and the lever choice, too.
Shared Herman the German from midnight ʻtil dawn.
Such darn awful jokes? Jest BLAME UNCLE JOHN!

Because once a bad guy abruptly appeared,
You donʼt like the sight of a man with a beard.
You wonʼt play Monopoly; losingʼs foregone!
Each fear and each phobia? BLAME UNCLE JOHN!

He taught you that “dootsie”ʼs Armenian for “tickle”;
That licorice ice cream goes well with a pickle;
You read every sign at each landmark you stop on;
Annoying bad habits? Letʼs BLAME UNCLE JOHN!

Read Uncle Shelbey, a lovable book!
Put trump in the kitty each time you play Rook.
Buy one of each gadget you lay your eyes on.
Cause unrest then protest, then BLAME UNCLE JOHN!

Please pardon this poem; Iʼm better at prose.
My children, this warning soon draws to a close.
Iʼve just three more stanzas, and then whereupon
Youʼll know why itʼs vital to BLAME UNCLE JOHN.

Now in any famʼly each member exalts,
At finding and labeling each otherʼs faults.
And one thing that you two can always depend on;
Point fingers at me, and Iʼll BLAME UNCLE JOHN.

ʻcause shrinks always focus completely on mothers;
Ignoring that most of us have older brothers
To whom, most conveniently, guilt we pass on.
So donʼt blame your mom! Instead, BLAME UNCLE JOHN!

So if you stay up and are tired tomorrow,
Oh, donʼt think of me as the cause of your sorrow!
For everything in your whole life that goes wrong,
Remember–forever!–to BLAME UNCLE JOHN!