A Summer's Afternoon Stroll by a Cool Refreshing Stream Where an Elderly Gentleman Who Grew Up on the Streets of Asphalt and Cement in Brooklyn Now Takes His Grandchildren

Greenbrook, NJ - jack - Friday, July 13th, 2007 : goo

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i do a lot of flyfishing here at this stream, big trout, cooling waters, the rush, the silence of the trees and the noise of the stream, the sun trying in vain to break through the branches but can only leave spotted shadows on the ground, i reflect on my youth, the missed opportunities, the accidently great things i did, and all this while the stream kept running.

i find the remants of others who have discovered my stream, they left behind a part of their lives for me to stumble upon, they just left it there as if mother nature will clean it up after them, the refuse and the beauty.

i stroll for two miles of quietness but the birds and the rushing stream waken me from my doldrums as a motorcade running through dollard-des-ormeaux, when i happen upon a train trestle, hidden by time, so i think.

the timeless beauty of the massive structure untouched by time, the clean, unadulterated, beauty, and then i see it, the marks of mankind, the ugaritic scrawl that will centuries from now tell people of the life style of americans

and i add my stamp of a reminder of who we are, my inscription of a time and place, of pictures and writings, of stories both true and a little fictional, of all of you out there in the darkness of your cubicles, your rooms, your hidden places, where you and only you know what is truly inscripted in your soul, i salute you, salut.

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joey: that's the spirit, old man.

jack: yea, yes on both counts.

Peter: nice, jack! i like it...

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