NaPoWriMo: Railways

They changed history, the railroads.

They changed time, scheduling it with preciseness,

a new conciseness,

connecting towns, connecting people.

Clickety clack, clickety clack

the tracks of the Transcontinental Railway,

connecting a nation

Elation!

Refrigerated cars, carrying meat and produce

connecting farm and city,

Railway cars and urban gritty.

Clickety clack, clickety clack

Freight train

Freight train

going so fast

Salesmen selling goods and schemes

connecting consumers with products and dreams.

Clickety clack, clickety clack.

The Great Migration and Depression blues

changing where we lived, what we choose.

Clickety clack,  clickety clack.

Hobos and the Scottsboro Boys,

lonesome blues, lonesome noise,

justice denied,

hop a freight—

Wait,

will we ever get back home?

No, only forward.

Don’t look back.

Don’t look back.

Clickety clack,  clickety clack

The trains must run on time,

Up they climb,

to the halls of hell.

Well,

take a breath.

Come greet, Death.

Clickety clack,  clickety clack

Blood on the tracks

Blood on the tracks

Auschwitz, Dachau–

we wonder how,

how?

Can we stop it now?

Freight train, freight train,

going too fast.

Not so fast, not so fast, not so fast, not so fast

Clickety clack,  clickety clack

The mournful sighs

the tearful cries,

people and trains

remains

bound for glory.

You can hear the whistle

blow one hundred miles,

clickety clack, click clack

fading, fading, fading with time.

 

NaPoWriMo Day 6 . I used the Secret Keeper’s writing prompt, using these words

town/train/fade/hear/hall

 

 

 

Childhood Dreams, Childhood Memories

“Walkin’ through the world
Things happen
Right before your eyes
Things happen
Soon enough you’re lost
And thinkin’
When I’m gonna go back home”
–John Kander and Fred Ebb, “Go Back Home,”
The Scottsboro Boys

 

I was in my car today listening to Radio Times, as poet Lynn Levin described the doll on the cover of her new book Miss Plastique. The brief discussion brought back vivid memories of my daughters playing with their dolls. They loved playing with “the Barbs,” and gave each one a name. I remember Mary, Colonial, Tracy (aka Tracy-Hopping-on-One-Foot after she lost a leg). The Barbies had so many adventures—some of which, I recently discovered, I knew nothing about. It’s probably better that way. I did witness though, and participated in, many of the dolls’ escapades. Little Women Barbies was a favorite game of my younger daughter that we played together when her older sister was at school. She selected particular Barbie Dolls to be the main characters of Louisa May Alcott’s story. In my daughter’s Barbie version, Amy had superhuman gymnastic abilities and drove a car. And I’m pretty sure I remember Aunt March sang “Bare Necessities.” I’m not certain why.

 

Dolls have existed since ancient times and in cultures throughout the world. (See an example here.)
They can be made from all sorts of material. My daughters made paper doll families, seashell families, and on one family vacation, they made a family from the chopsticks they took home from a restaurant. I was never worried about them being unduly influenced by Barbie’s freakish body. Clearly, the dolls were merely props for the worlds their imaginations created.

 

These reflections about dolls and childhood came after my checkup with my oncologist. He said everything looks great. I was relieved, of course. I know how easily I could have been told something else. Yesterday I had attended the funeral of a young man who died much too soon. He was only 23, barely out of boyhood. I am happy that I am well, but it makes me feel almost guilty. I cherish the memories of my daughters’ childhoods, but they are alive, and this wonderful young man is not. His family has the memories of his childhood to cherish, but he is no longer with them, and memories are all they have.

 

Like many people here in the US, I’ve been feeling that “Right before your eyes things happen.” In the case of the “Scottsboro Boys,” it was being on a freight train at the wrong time and place. Last week it was watching a marathon in Boston. Why is one person injured, while someone else moments before just happened to move away? Sometimes randomness is reassuring, but at other times it’s frightening. Since prehistoric times, humans have tried to understand fate, but it is impossible, of course. “Giddy Fortune’s furious fickle wheel”

 

Girl with collection of dolls (Photo credit: George Eastman House)

spins and we don’t know what it will bring. Perhaps that is one reason why children are so drawn to dolls. They can be held, loved, and cherished. They can be used to create a new universe where characters in a novel take on new lives, or where a family member still exists. They can help to bring shape and order to a random world.