RUDIMENTS, pt. 590
('did you just see that too?')
'Come on now, fellas, what's
all this?' I had to ask that of
these guys out front of the
new, local McDonald's, back
up after the flood, across the
Sears store, and its parking
lot which abutted that stealthy
cemetery which I mentioned
a few chapters back. They
were out front there, collecting
and hawking for this Qaddafi
guy, from Libya. Colonel
Qaddafi; we've all heard of
him. (In fact, we (team USA)
killed him a few years back).
The whole scheme of things
didn't seem right - these
forlorn looking half-torn
hipster proselytizers for a North
Africa / Muslim / Mid-Easterner
who, they were here claiming,
was the world's savior we'd
all been waiting for. This was
about 1973, and I still to this
day don't know how this ever
happened, especially in Elmira.
I couldn't even understand by
what logic or, perhaps, form
of bravery (or stupidity) they
were working this angle from.
One dead to the touch town,
still reeling from last year's
wipe-out, struggling to get
back, amid the poor and
distraught and poverty-wrung
packrats of the earth at a local,
scummy McDonalds, being
approached with foreign-policy
issues, false philosophizing,
distortions of salvationist
claptrap, of whatever weird
sourcing this had. Like trying
to explain the cosmos to a
cranky kid : way beyond
comprehension. Since I was
passing by, I went over to
them and asked a few questions
and listened to their spiel. At
Elmira College, just up the
street less than a mile, we used
to get, dropped on the college
mailbox/post office wall table,
a daily pile of 'Granma', maybe
25 copies a day. It was the
Communist Party of Cuba's
house organ newspaper, named
after 'Granma' - which was
the name of the gunboat by
which Castro and his rebel
band had landed back on the
island for their successful
takeover - it was all the usual
Soviet-style propaganda stories,
profiles and heroics. I never
knew why or by what means
we received that free pile of
newspapers each day, though
I often took a copy when I was
there. I thought, perhaps, these
Qadaffi goofballs had something
to so with that.
-
The thing was, with these guys
- and there was one interesting
babe among them too - it was
less politics and more religious
fervor. Their point was that
Muhamar Qadaffi (I guessed
here on that spelling) was a
chosen and pre-ordained religious
figure, not mere politics, who'd
been written of in scripture and
who was pre-ordained to sweep
in and implement the salvation
of the world - if we'd all just
get on board. He needed the
acceptance of the downtrodden
masses. He was to change the
world. He was a Holy Man. This
was some major kind of rap, and
they didn't even mention Muslim.
This was 1973; oil wars and
embargoes, or gas lines at gas
stations hadn't yet even been
imagined ('Coming soon to a
street near you!'). Where they'd
gotten this stuff from was really
beyond me. And why there?
Why not Binghamton, 75 miles
east? There were a few colleges
there, and the place was larger
more well-off. Why not Ithaca,
21 miles north? That place was
a tinder-box for anything of
this nature, custom made! The
people of Elmira right then had
trouble finding soap and water
to clean with, let alone be
lectured to by outlandish
starmen claiming they had
the answers to all of life's
failings and shortcomings.In
the person, no less, of some
the person, no less, of some
hallucinogenic potentate
from North Africa. I just
walked away, after getting
a really curiously enticing
smile by the female of the
Qadaffi's. Too bad.
-
The lefty world was
everywhere, in its 1970
version anyway. I tried
the Muhammed Ali angle,
thinking maybe his Muslim
thing tied in to this. No luck.
If it was even lefty at all.
I couldn't tell; it almost
sounded as severe as any
right-wing description I'd
ever heard too. This was
some difficult stuff - and
was McDonald's in on it too?
Dispensers of French Fries
and Double-Burgers (there
were not yet 'Big Macs' -
the Double Burger was their
top of the line, before
'Quarter-Pounders' hit). Did
McDonald's just allow anyone
the right to their front walkway
to collect, or did they review
and approve things first?
Hmmm. I felt blind-sided.
Poor old Elmira.
-
Out behind the big Sears, (I
can't remember if they came
back post-flood or not. It's
gone now, that I know), the
old graveyard beckoned,
and then began the incline
to higher ground and the
better and larger, grand
houses. It was one of those
cities or towns were the old
1885 feel of things could
still be seen by just glancing
around the streets and houses.
Bluestone walkways and
sidewalks, filigreed porch
moldings, mansard roofs here
and there, vast homes,, and
the occasional still-extant
stables and rounding drives,
port-cocheres (or whatever
those shelter things are called).
Euclid Avenue. Strathmount.
All sorts of grand names. I
think if there was a clock
on any wall, or a grandfather
clock in a vestibule, it ran
slow - only because here time
itself was slower; there was
some other pace to things, a
more dense atmosphere that
simply demanded more time
in order to get through it.
Out in the distances were these
weird parks - Eldridge Park,
(or as I used to call it, Eldridge
Cleaver Park, in honor of the
Black Power movement), and
Harris Hill. Beyond that was
the Schweizer Soaring School.
Because of the peculiar updraft
at the location near Harris Hill,
soaring and soar-planes became
a big attraction and undertaking.
The Schweizer Aircraft people
were world famous (still are)
for their location school, and
the soaring planes they design
and manufacture. Often called
'gliders' these silent and wide
winged, motorless craft (most
usually for one or two people)
soar the heavens, riding the
updrafts and airflows from
off and up the local geography
and topography. Quite the sight.
-
You may say, or think perhaps
think, what makes any of this so
different than any other town, or
small city, or place, or location.
I will NOT be the one to say
specifically what's up with all
of this but I can point you in
the needed direction: it's quite
spiritual. Think, first, of water,
and what it is, and how it is
drawn to places. It probably
was no accident that the raging
flood took place here, with a
cleansing wind, a thrashing
flow, a destructive but, as
well, a regenerative tide. It's
about energy and a basin, a
by geography anyway, wherein
forces collect and can stay and
form themselves outward. Yes,
Elmira may have had its time
and place, and it's all probably
gone now and dispersed, because
the uses of Time and psychic
Energy have all been changed
and that war has been lost,
lost in the same way the old
railroad and industrial Elmira
has been lost. But, there's still
something here, and I'll get to
that. But let me close, for now,
this chapter, in this manner.
In 1975 I had a Volkswagen
Squareback I'd bought for
$850. It was a solid and quite
remarkable car. We drove in
it the 250 miles between Elmira
and NYC often, and visited
home and Avenel too - usually
leaving, if we could, for any
3-day weekend, as they cropped
up, or holiday or vacation period.
We'd usually leave about 4:30
AM. (Let me state here, in
reference to this energy factor,
that this is all true. My goodly
wife can attest). One of those
quite early mornings we'd left
the City, just at its edge, entering
the meadow-flats and Rt. 17,
which ran past Elmira, down
from the area of Sullivan's
Monument (A slaughter-ground
by Capt. John Sullivan, on a
march instituted by President
Washington to wipe out the Five
Nation Iroquois tribes who lived
hereabouts). We got to the flats,
quite normal, radio on as we
drove, and a piercing, sharp
light came through the sky,
across our car, and landed in
the field some ways off from
us, perhaps a half mile. And
all remained quiet and went
dark. Our car had lost all power,
shut down, radio, engine,
ignition. I could do nothing.
We sat there, perplexed and
confused - what had we seen?
Did this just happen? - and
then, after perhaps 4 or 5
minutes, just like that, all
came back on, the car was
running again, we had lights,
and so did the highway.
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