“Dolls”

I’m remembering a Doll Hospital. Well actually it was a soda fountain. Yes that far back. It was a soda fountain stationary store toy shop news stand,…or news agent for folks in the Commonwealth.  

It was around the corner from my childhood home in Brooklyn.  

This in the 1950’s.
This was where I got comic books model airplanes, and “Cott” orange soda. “…it’s Cott to be Good!” 
The corner soda fountain was  a Doll Hospital. Rather it was a front for one. 

They didn’t actually do brain surgery on the little folks there. Once a week a mysterious lady would come by with a large box. She’d scoop up her patients their particulars, and drive away in a Volkswagen.

The VW is what made her mysterious.   My dad would take my sister’s dolls to the soda fountain for admission to the “Mysterious” Doll Hospital. This because no mortals outside of the VW lady had ever seen it.  

I had a vision of long rows of beds in white halls filled with bandaged dolls. This with nurses doctors visiting relatives, and candy machines in the corner. One hoped for a bright happy doll convalescence. Hair restored strand by strand eyes healed with just the right hint of hazel arms legs hands heads renewed!  

At last the awaited call from the fountain. “Your dolls are all better you can come take them home now!”
Happier words never heard by a little girl,…or closeted boy.
‘But wait there’s more. 

The healed doll, and or teddy sitting at the dinner table. My mom saying she has to take it easy for a while. Which means don’t feed her to the dog. Life returns our family reunited.
Mind you there’s a whole world of scary internal contradictions with this. Ya know all that class race stuff. However I’m going for a happy ending here.

The End.

"My Penn Station"

I was little, but I was there. 

It was like the grand palaces in the story books I was reading. 

Vast. It was vast. 

Went on forever. Doric columns that soared to the clouds. 
A sky of glass overhead, and so many people. All kinds of people. A sea of them quickly going this way, and that. Voices that thundered overhead announcing trains. Uniformed porters newspaper stands full of comic books. 

Rich ladies with small dogs...as in New Yorker cartoons. 
All this, and the sound of trains bellow. The rumble beneath my feet my mother tugging me along. 
That was my Penn Station.

"Years of Absence day of Return"

The other morning I had a vision, a momentary dream as I was waking up. In it I saw three Black children walking down a highway. An interstate somewhere in the American Midwest.

It was as if I were floating just above them following along. There was a young boy maybe 12, and wearing a "Yankee's" cap, a little girl 9 with a "Hello Kitty" back pack, and a toddler maybe 3 or 4 wearing an old fashioned Amish style sun bonnet.

The boy was pulling a red wagon of the type common for kids to have in the 1940's, and 50's. I had one, an "American flyer" with white walls. In the wagon sat the baby, and various pieces of luggage.

A little American flag fluttered from the back as the wagon bounced along. That flag though. It was an odd sort of thing,..the stars were blue, and the stripes were different.

Now the children, they were laughing, and singing as they walked. The youngsters spoke a musical sounding language to each other. Very sweet'n gentle like.

Imagine old time Harlem hipsters speaking "Jive" in middle English.

The boy began to sing a bright rhythmic hymn, and the little girl walked by him doing old gospel response, counter point. The baby was waving a feather at the sky.

As I say these young folks was walk'n, and headed for a town. Smokey Hill Kansas. It was just across the next bridge. Just another peaceful mid 21st century American town.

The morning traffic was starting to build. Though many cars had slowed their occupants staring in amazement at the children. The kids took no mind of them, they was used to gawkers by now, and continued on their way.

Still cars slowed, others stopped outright. All this for good reason. See these Colored kids, these Negro children was the first African Americans many had seen in decades. For some it was the 'first' they'd ever seen,..outside of old movies or picture books.

America, at least the "United States" part of it hadn't had any Black folks since that Day.

'The' Day.

It was maybe 40 years ago when all the Coloreds just up, and left. No one ever found out where too or why.

It was a particular Labor Day just after the desert war had ended. All the Negros, all the slave descended decided as one...to leave. They left their houses, their cars, business's, lawn sprinklers, everything.

Well almost "everything."

They took their pets. Yes they did. They took them to wherever they went off to. All their dogs, cats, birds, gold fish, and hamsters. They didn't take no snakes though. Black folks don't like no snakes. That's a fact!

Anyway 300 years of slavery, and another 100 or more of phony "freedom" would piss anybody off. So away the Coloreds went. Nobody has seen any of 'em till today. Till these three children peacefully walking down Route 24.

Ya know this sort'a thing has happened before or so I hear.

Over there in Russia where they treat the Jews bad. There's stories of whole villages vanishing. When the Cossack's came for their monthly murder, rape, and robbery they found empty towns. No Jewish folks, not one.

I hear them Nazi's had the same "problem" sometimes.

But in this case seems 'some' tormented folks had decided to come back to visit the Earth. Some Coloreds have come back to America to find out if the folks here had learned anything while they was gone.

Some, just a few, just for now.

Years of Absence,..Day of return.

To be continued.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

(Above is a story I was working on a while back. It's very loosely based on a play by Douglas Turner Ward "Day of Absence". An early 60's production about a southern town where all the Negros disappear for a day, and the chaos the results.)

I try to imagine what would happen if we stayed away for years,...then a few came back.

"Grandma was Right"

Honesty is the best policy. Certainly it's the easiest policy. Saying it's better is a "moral" judgment that has no place in these secular times. But what the hell,...let's say honesty is a "good" long term,...non-denominational, policy.

It's main virtue is that it's easier.

You don't have to remember anything. Not nothing ya home free. Now of course lying or dishonesty is an excellent short term strategy. I stress "short term" for it's main virtue,..immediate usefulness, is also it's main weakness.

Sure lying through ya teeth will get ya out of a jam okay, but there's the inevitable liabilities attached.

Lies no matter how inventive or subtle work only in the immediate short term. After that they need constant maintenance.

Indeed the more complex or interesting the lie the 'more' maintenance it will need. If you engage serial lying you'll have some serious shit cut out for you.

You'll have to remember many people, times, places, and incidents. You'll have to keep all these often conflicting elements updated, and perfectly matched on a regular basis.

I mean com'on a special "negative reality" program will be required to manage your personal or business agenda. '...and need I point out that servicing a "Lying Bastard" file on any electronic information retrieval system is just asking for trouble!

Now with "honesty" or a reasonable level of honesty. I mean gimme a break absolute honesty will just get ya slapped in the face!

However with "general" honesty things are dramatically simpler. There's no need or hardly any need for data storage.

You can forget just about everything you've ever said or done. A blessing as many of us are getting on in years, and can't remember shit anyhow.

So to sum up, managing lies is just too damned much work, and nobody will thank you for it neither! Honesty 'is' the best policy!

See turns out Grandma was right all along!

"Every Dream has a Price."

",,,sugar"

I wrote this over 10 years ago,...just found it.

"The Ring-Ding Episode"

Okay here's the situation. I just worked for about 18 hours straight. I'm completely fried. My eyes are cooked from staring at various ctr screens, and I'm totally irradiated from being in close quarters with broadcast equipment.

But this isn't the problem.

Going blind, being radioactive, having the flu, being radically stressed out, and awake for a couple of days is no big deal I've been doing this sort of thing for 30 years.

What I'm worried about are the 'Eight' count'em 8!! Ring Dings, (tm) I just ate in rapid succession, and then washed down with several cans of Pepsi.

I figured this would pep me up.

Anyway what I wanna know is,...are them things gonna kill me?

Granted I used to consume vast quantities of dangerous drugs while doing all the above mentioned work. Eh, this was back in the day, and it was socially acceptable. ...ahem.

However Ring Dings as wonderful as they are are also far more dangerous than any combination of nasally absorbed powdered additives. I think the Pepsi may be the triggering mechanism of this little drama.

I can hear the EMT guys talking over my deflating body in the meat wagon.

"What a dummy."

"If he just sucked down them Pepsi's, and nuthin' else he would'a made it."

"If he had 'only' scoffed down that bucket of Ring Dings, and left it at that ditto!"

"But ya can't do both, and sure as hell not at the same time!"

So should I be calling all the people that have bleeped me over during my life so I either forgive them or finally tell them what I really think of them.

Or...., should I have some more cream filled, chocolate coated, sugar glazed bits of Heaven?

Dammit if this country had National Health I wouldn't have to worry!