11,137. RUDIMENTS, pt. 431

RUDIMENTS, pt. 431

(avenel - silent spring)

I often wondered about a

lot of things, personal stuff

that no one else would have

shared. The sort of things

that just stayed in my mind

and kind of haunted me;

and there wasn't anything

much I could do about it.

It was my make-up. For

instance, that guy in Fords,

William Pasterak, at 27

Hamilton Avenue. The

newspaper said he was the

engineer of the locomotive

that day that ran us down.

What kind of poor-ass life

did that guy ever have after

that experience? Did he

sleep nights? Did he ever

settle back in? Did he even

keep his job? Is there some

sort of railroad discipline

that severs your employment

when you have a train wreck?

I hoped he went on okay and

without psychic scarring. None

of it was through any fault

of his own, and I figured he

must have worked that out

for himself. I went past

his house, or that house

anyway, a few times, but I

never knew if he still lived

there. Maybe he high-tailed

it out of town after that

experience. I sometimes

just wanted to knock on

the door and say, 'Bill,

Bill, look it's me, the

kid you hit  -  I'm OK,

it's cool. I made it!'

Poor guy; for all I know

he'd have  keeled over

from a heart attack or

shock. Even cooler, the

fireman on that train was

a guy named William

Gleeson, with his address

simply listed as 'Philadelphia.'

That was pretty far-off in

1958; way too much for a

commute, unless maybe

this Gleeson fellow just

traveled around with his

train, until it got back to

Philly. I don't know. The

whole world was so much

more primitive, and silent;

like some old movie, just

always playing off in the

background with that weird

sort of swirly organ music to

hit the high and low points

with the different musics.

Sound that 'resembled' the

moment it was representing.

-

Every so often, back out

behind my house, and the

others of course, along the

tracks, there'd be brush fires.

This was back when train

windows used to open, etc.,

so we always figured an errant,

tossed, cigarette started things.

Fire would start rolling, in a kind

of 'smolder' way, spreading, yes

but always staying low and

horizontal. Eventually the

fire guys would show up,

but they had to drag like

a half-mile's worth of hoses

and stuff through driveways

and backyards and all, so it

always took a long time. Time

during which the fire prospered.

The funny thing was how there 
was never any real wildlife or 
ground animals or anything to be
disrupted It was lifeless, and it's

kind of hard to fathom today,

with deer and stuff running all

over those back lands (I know

because, running my dog there

and going along Paddock Street,

there's a herd of some 12 or 16

deer, always. My dog's not a

chaser sort, and they all just

stare each other down now

and then, sort of reading each

other's presence through scent

and quick movement. If there's

no movement going on, they

just stand there looking. A

cool life; we should all do

that, there'd be a lot less

death and destruction).

-

Anyway, what I was saying

was that with these fires, there

was nothing ever jumping

around, no scurrying wildlife

or ground animals or birds.

The fires basically did nothing

except a more or less natural

cleansing burn. Things were

black maybe for a Summer

month, and then the green took

all back over. The whole area

around here, with DDT and

sprays and new houses and all

the cut trees and all, was just a

big dead-spot for most all of the

1950's and 1960's. I almost

can't see how we lived or how

normal adults would have

continually allowed that sort

of desecration of the natural

world. It's worse today, I know,

because now you can purchase

your own hand-held spray

versions of root-poisons, and

then see yourself on the TV

portrayed in ads as the happy

idiot killing weeds out on his

lawn. 'The next installment of 
'Sterility and Defoliants'comes 
on at three. Be sure not to miss it.'

Even more nasty now is how all

the towns have sewer grates

which now instruct you not

to dump or pour anything in

them because it all runs into the

waterway that feeds the river,

etc. It's all so cute, and even has

the image of a fish on it. Problem is,

the towns are the worst offenders,

and every lawn and garden there

drains, as rainwater-runoff, all

those poisons right down into

those sewers anyway. The world

and its people are just so stupid :

Have you seen any mutant

two-headed kids lately?

-

So we grew up with just about

nothing really 'natural' going on

around us EXCEPT those fires.

On the cusp, as we were, of that

'better living through chemistry'

stuff, we were being used as

experimental human bait, just

to see what would happen to

us. Just as every chrysalis turns

into something else, I guess too

we each became something 

other than our 9 year old 

selves. I figure anyway. When

you live in a place that doesn't

really offer much of anything

except rancor and rainwater,

there's not much to be 

expected from within those 

changes. You've got to sort 

of boot the ball way past the

net of the usual mercantile

and artificial crap they send

your way. You really don't

need to buy local; the same

crap is available wherever

you go. Rachel Carson, you

say, lived on Clark Place?

Hmmmm, Silent Spring

for sure, I say, to all that.