The Man On Radio Row
Christmas Eve, Nineteen-Sixty Eight, Dad said
“There’re going to knock those buildings into sticks,”
We saw from his Vesey Street office view,
Wrecking Ball Dinosaurs smash Radio Row
“
A shame, you could get anything you need,
Tubes for TV’s not produced anymore,”
He bought a clockwork electric timer,
Housed it in three ply-wood and plexi-glass,
“That Old Man could find you anything there,
Last time I saw him he held up a sign,
Read, ‘Save Radio Row, No Twin Towers Here,’
I guess that’s progress, the way things go,”
New York City tore down that part of town
-
Dad narrated the summers of our lives
While showing guests our family picture slides,
When we came to those three slides, those taken
From that same window, of Radio Row,
Leveled, streets remained, gray herring bone blocks,
“I took these last spring, right out my office,
They’ve already begun digging the pits
For the World Trade Center, the PATH station,
It’s going to be big, but it’s a shame,
An Old Guy, could find anything you want,
Electronics, tubes, contact cleaner, stuff
That’s all gone now, that’s all gone, that’s progress,
If they keep digging, they’ll find, smack dab there,
Remains of Dutch New Amsterdam, right there,”
-
Work moved Dad uptown as the towers went up,
His plywood clock got passed along to me,
I plugged my record player in, queued up
Beatles songs to wake me at 6am
You know my Mother died in ‘79
Dad’s homemade alarm clock lasted until
My College Senior year – poof – ‘83,
It finally broke, buzzed it’s last, and died,
While mourning I recalled my Dad talking;
“He could find you anything, I went down,
He had a barrel of clockparts, just out,
He told me how to wire it up, easy,
That guy he’s gone now, that’s progress for you,”
His legacy’s gone too, Rest In Pieces
-
After the old clock died Dad ran down too,
He met his widow girlfriend, retired,
Moved in with her, and in his seventies,
He caught Alzheimers, it was she told me,
“The last few years, he’s been telling stories,
Rambling, I don’t know what he means sometimes,
We went to the doctor, they ran some tests,”
All this explained a lot over past years,
I asked her questions about how they lived,
Hers had been his home since my mother died,
He knew where he was here, she loved him too,
“No, taking him out of our home? Not yet,
He listens to me, I can handle him,”
Adding,
“You should know, it’s just all so sad,”
-
I recall my Dad’s stories from those years,
As a kid, he took horse-riding lessons,
The horse farm close by Idlewild field,
Where men flew experimental airplanes,
It’s now part of the JFK airport,
“And the horse knew the way home when we’re lost,”
Being a Marine, on night guard duty,
“They would make a pot of strong black coffee,
They’d come out, I learned to love black coffee,”
And there was the day he got sinus pills,
During the New York City garbage strike,
“First time in years, I could smell the garbage!”
Also, snippets from the radio store,
“In the back, he could find you anything,”
-
Spring ’02 and they went to Ground Zero,
The building he once worked in had survived,
The window we once looked out, once blown in,
They and another couple walked the ramp,
Down into that pit of great tragedy,
Down with the Dutch of old New Amsterdam,
She told me later,
“It’s sad, your Father,
The Verizon Building across the street,
The World Trade Center and 9/11,
He had no idea where he was, poor thing,
No one knew what he was talking about,”
Behind her, him mumbling, now as normal
“
On my lunch, in the back, he’d be quick back,
It was wonderful, that’s progress for you,”
Japanese Gaki know Halloween,
Tiny throats to narrow even to let drip,
Go tricks or treats at dusk today,
