I wrote the following poem around the end of Junior High. It was something I did at home just for fun, and I really have no recollection as to why I chose this odd topic in the first place. Perhaps it was a slow day, and I was lying around fantasizing about taking up crime as a vocation after I graduated from High School.
Who knows? Perhaps I wrote it after watching one of Edward G. Robinson films so popular in the fifties. Or maybe it was inspired by other tough guys of the era like James Cagney or Humphrey Bogart. All I know is, that at least on paper, I accomplished something never before proven to have been achieved in the entire history of American crime.
It’s refreshing to look back to a time when my youthful imagination made doing most ANYTHING seem more than just a possibility. In those days I could easily imagine myself flying like Superman, dispensing justice like the Lone Ranger or The Shadow, walking unnoticed like the Invisible Man, or defying the odds and escaping from a penal fortress with a smirk on my face and extended middle finger to show my disdain for authority. I guess that’s the beauty of being YOUNG.These days, however, my imaginative forays are far less adventurous than having “super abilities” or escaping from a place like Alcatraz. They focus on more immediate things, and share none of the glamour of my youthful reveries. They include whether my blood pressure will be low enough to avoid being chastised by the doctor, or whether I’ll be able to get up without assistance after sitting too long while waiting for my ten prescriptions at the Costco Pharmacy. Yes, these days I find myself escaping TO reality. Ahhh, what a difference fifty or so years make ……!Escape From Alcatraz
The night was hot and sticky
As I crept along the wall.
My image in the moonlight
Cast a shadow ten feet tall.
My heart was wildly pulsing,
In my hand, a .38,
Stood poised for sudden action
As I tiptoed towards the gate.
I passed the good old rock pile
Then stopped and glancing there,
Remembered all my toil and sweat
Amidst the stifling air.
Then turning, I stalked forward,
Ever closer to my goal.
And all the time my shattered nerves
Caused havoc in my soul.
Then all at once I saw them,
Three guards upon the wall.
Beside them a machine gun
Which made my insides crawl.
I darted through the shadows
To a spot close by the three.
My gun began to fiercely bark
As they gaped down at me.
Moans were heard as two guards fell
Down to the earth below.
The other swung his gun around,
And bullets flew like blinding snow.
My mind became a whirling mass
As lights and sirens blared.
I ran, and throwing wide the gate
Beheld the freedom I had snared.
I ran and then with lightning speed,
I dove into the bay.
The icy waters swallowed me
And I was on my way.
I fought through all those choppy waves
Which frolicked in the night,
And when the searching light came near
I had to dive from sight.
For three long hours I stayed afloat,
To make that safety shore,
And when I reached its sandy beach
My fears were gone forever more.
As the light of dawn ascended
And I walked the road to town,
I stepped upon some orange peels
And fell, crash, to the ground.
My head bounced off a boulder
Which stood along the way,
And when the two collided,
I left this world, and dead I lay.
There is a simple ending
To my tale of fear and woe,
Right now I am the foreman
Of a rock pile down below.
My find escape from Alcatraz
Was messed up by some mug…
And just because he had to be
A stupid LITTER BUG!
© 2-25-2011
As I see it, environmentalists serve two main functions in our society. One is to point out the ways we are killing the planet and its species (especially mankind), and the other is to make us feel like barricading ourselves inside our houses to avoid the insidious compounds and organisms lurking outside, just waiting to pounce upon and render us DEAD!
Yes, everything from carcinogens in our food, air, and water, to Super Germs immune to the agents with which we fight them. And, of course, even when we conjure up “safer” stuff to use against these pint-sized assassins, it seems to add it’s own layer of negative environmental consequence, thus reducing our effective arsenal to perhaps a Louisville Slugger.
The environmentalist’s message is clear: Watch what you eat, what you drink, what you breathe, what you touch, where you go, who you go there with, and finally…… watch for things you aren’t even smart enough to realize need watching.
Everything considered, there is much wisdom in taking what environmentalists say, seriously. After all, mankind has always been quite careless with the health of the planet and it’s creatures. But one cannot stop the process of living, and huddle in a corner too frightened to participate in everyday activities that make us who we are. We cannot turn concern for our well-being, into phobias that render us paralyzed or minimally functional, at best.
When I was a kid I don’t remember ever hearing the term, “environmental safety.” And because I was part of that prehistoric culture, we worried not that the world was out to get us. We just did what seemed like a good idea at the time, and did it often with great enthusiasm.
For example, when I went to the dentist, he had a neat way to keep me occupied while he prepared the amalgam with which he was going to repair my tooth. Since the compound included mercury, he’d walk over to a small dispenser and squirt out a penny-sized puddle of the silver liquid on a piece of gauze. Then for the next few minutes I’d shatter it into tiny balls using my finger, and watch as they mysteriously merged back into one shiny glob… just like magic. It was definitely the highlight of my visits. And the bonus was, he let me take it home ! …… along with the mercury in my new filling.
This experience at the dentist spawned another pastime. Every chance my friends and I had to get our hands on an old thermometer, we’d take and break the tube so we could extract that amorphous red liquid we loved so much. You could say we were almost mercury junkies, who “pushed” its role as a plaything to every kid in the neighborhood who would listen.
I had another interesting pastimes, as well. On the way home from school, for example, my buddies and I would stop by the local shoe store for entertainment. Near the front door was the latest in shoe-sizing technology. It was an x-ray machine in which you put your feet to see how they fit in your shoes. Yes, you could actually wiggle your toes and see your foot bones move! And, whether it was because he was a benevolent man or just a savvy businessman taking advantage of free advertising, the proprietor never threw us out no matter how often we stopped by. And believe me, that was a lot. By the time I was a teenager, my feet should have glowed in the dark!
My unsafe practices continued as I got older. I can remember working at my Uncle’s hardware store and cutting many yards of asbestos cloth for customers. At that time asbestos was an indispensable fabric used to wrap around furnace pipes and anything else that needed protection from great heat. And for we hot-rodders who wanted to extend the life of our car’s glasspack mufflers, (and who wouldn‘t?), we’d wrap it around to cover the rust holes, then wire it on. Yes, asbestos was every guy’s fabric of choice, and as we put it to good use we never once thought to hold our breath.
I guess my childhood was filled with many more activities that would be frowned upon today by those who would keep us safe. For example, I swiped olives out of open barrels at the Italian Store, and ate them unwashed even though they had been shared by flies and other critters. And I drank water from our rusty hose bib, and ate dandelion salad picked in the yard where the dogs always did their “business.”
I put on my skates and caught rides on the bumpers of moving cars until they spotted us and we had to let go. And I played with the piles of lint that built up outside the exhaust pipe in the alley behind the local dry cleaners, all the time breathing in and enjoying the fumes of potent cleaning chemicals as they exited the building through that same pipe.
And early on Saturday mornings I’d get on my bike and ride a mile to the park to go fishing, or to the golf course to find balls or mess around in the woods near each hole. Sometimes I wouldn’t get home until dusk, a mere ten year old boy away from home for over eight hours with no supervision and no cell phone. I mean, just imagine that. How could such a thing have occurred without injury, harm, or worse?
Perhaps, the old saying, “Ignorance is bliss,” strongly applies to this post. I mean, with regard to environmental issues, we really didn’t know too much way back then. And, if somebody did, they certainly weren’t hitting us over the head each day with urgent warnings or threats of our demise. So, I guess the only question left to ponder is this: Considering how many practical and environmental safety violations I unknowingly committed for so many years … how the hell did I make it this far?
I wrote the following poem around the end of Junior High. It was something I did at home just for fun, and I really have no recollection as to why I chose this odd topic in the first place. Perhaps it was a slow day, and I was lying around fantasizing about taking up crime as a vocation after I graduated from High School.
