He fought as a flyweight in his Wisconsin college days
Skinny, yes, but a vicious tactician
Growing up on Kaua‘i, his nickname was Beanpole
When I was a scrawny 10-year-old
He bought us a set of gloves from Sears
And taught me how to stick, bob, and weave
Bedridden in a nursing home
The last three years he lay on his back
Unable to walk or even stand
I set up a TV in his room there
We’d watch boxing matches together
Whenever we could catch them on ESPN
After he died, clearing out his closet
I found those boxing gloves
In a beat up brown paper bag
They were worn and disintegrating
Moldy and mildew smelling
And I threw them away
Lanning Lee 