Old Downtown as a Rainy Day Memory

OLD DOWNTOWN AS A RAINY DAY MEMORY

On a rainy day when the air is thick with the sound of
dripping eaves and running gutters, I’m being lazy---
laying on the sofa and reminiscing of the old downtown
of my 1950's hometown in northeast Pennsylvania.
An image of Bolish’s Hardware drifts before me
with its industrious smells and scuffed, unvarnished
hardwood floors that creaked with age at every step
toward screws, bolts, nuts and washers stored away in
metal bins---later carefully dropped into 3x5 paper sacks
like candy for a kid, a sporadic Mr. Fix-It confidently
carrying away his cache---a symbol of his heroic self-
                            reliance.

My mind then wanders into Woolworths’ lunch bar---
hidden behind the rows of shelves packed tight with
household goods, toys, knickknacks, and other sundries
meant to fulfill the simple plans of housewives and the
                    wants of their children.
Here, head-scarved ladies served BLT sandwiches
on white bread with chips and a pickle on the side.
I would hope for all my worth my mother would order
me a glass of chocolate milk---knowing full well a bubbly
sugar-sweet soft-drink was out of the question. Suddenly

I’m recollecting the Sunday morning newsstand
where my father drove right after nine o’clock Mass---
its narrow confines choked with piles of Sunday papers,
racks of magazines, cigarettes, cigars, pipe tobacco, and
the ugly stuff my Uncle Gene loved to chew and spit into
empty milk cartons scattered around his house and lawn
            like sentries at their post. Here, my
Dad would buy a copy of the Elmira Telegram for the
local news and comics, and the New York Daily News
with its fascinating photos of Fifties’ Big Apple action.

I’m picturing the old downtown park with its diagonal,

crisscrossing  sidewalks, iron benches and towering elms

set between Desmond Street’s row of shops and the 1888 

              railroad station on Lehigh Avenue---

a park soon to be replaced by Newberrys’ brand new

cinder block store---a modern eyesore that blocked
railyard activity from the still interested ghosts and
            gawkers of the town’s railroad doings.

I’m recalling the Lehigh Valley railyard, seen from atop
the grime covered iron foot bridge to the Polish “East side.”  
I see it’s many tracks like claw marks in the sooty dirt;
even more are concealed by boxcars, tankers and coal cars
resembling long earthworms risen from the ground after
            a sudden storm. I can almost smell
the fumes from passing diesel-electric switchers shuttling
loaded cars into their proper place for the long rail ride to
            Buffalo or the Jersey City Terminal.
Later, as I  lay in bed, fantasizing in the muggy summer night,
the one & a half  mile away bang of couplers hitting couplers
would lull me into easy childhood sleep---much like drifting  
into the time laden sleep of an aging and daydreaming man.

Reviews

[John Alexander McFadyen]

This descriptive piece is filled with sights and smells as it paints us a nostalgic picture of those days, those slower days that now seem so far removed from our grasp. Strange to think our children might feel the same about today. Enjoyed this such a lot as you indeed gave us the tour of those feelings of yesteryear.

[kentuck14]

John,
Thanks much for your comments. Funny how age brings those memories on so strong!!
T

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i miss so much how it was when i was a kid...everything you show us here...yes, it was so different then...and the simple things we appreciated...the sounds of the trains...and how we wanted our own train sets...hardly anyone has those anymore.
New York in my days there...safe to walk several blocks, play at the park, even when i was not even 10 years old...
we loved Sundays after church, going to Ihop...every other week, something to look forward to.
Christmas with our 12 foot tall trees, real trees...this makes me want to drift off right now and dream.
j.

[kentuck14]

J,
Oh yes . . . how I wanted a train set . . . finally got it. My dad was a model railroader for many years . . . oh how he loved trains . . . he didn't work on the railroad. These kinds of poems are kinda meant for my kids and grandkids to read someday and get an idea of how things were.
T

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and they will learn so much from your very interesting and informative and fun writes.
j.

[Tom27]

As a reader, I am overwhelmed with nostalgia, sentimental, remembrance of old memories and maybe a slight hint of regret? I was led to feel that last emotion due to all the memories and daydreaming one person has; originated from not living my life to its fullest. However, that is just me. Love the way you write and words used to construct this. Great work, my friend.

[kentuck14]

Tom,
Thanks for commenting on this poem. No regrets . . . when a man hits 70 he thinks a lot of his past . . . especially if that person is a poet! This poem had its origins with a thought of the hardware store while I listened to the rain . . . I was right away inspired to sit at the keyboard and put down other memories. I was hoping it didn't come across as sentimental . . . although any memory has a certain amount of it.
Thanks for your kind words sir.
T