Laughs and Lobotomies

I see the neat little row home in North Philadelphia.

I see the neighbor who worked an hour or so away, and rich doctors would park in his spot.

I see the day he had had enough and he poured bird seed alllll over that doctor’s really nice car, the birds chipping the paint.

I see little hands pulling back thin white curtains to watch, curious tilt to the head.

The doctor paid to park at the hospital after that.

I see the boy and his cousins before Halloween at the costume shop.  They would all be King Arthur that year.  The boy did not know the photo of him would look exactly like his own son one day.

I see games of wall-ball.

I see the paper route the boy took.  I see how he clicked his tongue at the customers who would insist on 2 cents change when paying their 48 cent bill.

I see the day that paper route took that boy and his cousin to the New York City world’s fair.  I see what a day they had. 

I see the day that the paper route saved enough to buy a base guitar and an amp.  I see the day of The Shades, and Little Caesar and the Romans.

I see the young Oarsman.  Following in his father’s footsteps.

I see the march for civil rights, I see the conscientious objector, I see the long hair, and I see the inner city history teacher.

I see his first love.  The day his eldest daughter was born.

My father has always loved the three of us more than anything else.