Buildings in Mourning

New York, NY - jack - Tuesday, December 5th, 2006 : goo

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one summer day a young man took the sea beach express from gravesend brooklyn and rode to rector street in manhattan. he had been talking to his friend eddie, who's uncle was a linotype operator for an old comapany and he told the young man to see the shop foreman and ask about a position in their printing plant. so this eager, strong and handsome young man went up to the 5th floor of 130 cedar street and talked to nat, the shop foreman. so this handsome young man said, "hi nat, i'm here for a position. charlie, my friends uncle told me to see you".
nat: "oh, ok, your uncle charlie sent you here".
the young handsome man: no, charlie is my friends uncle".
nat: yeah, charlie is your uncle, right?".
the handsome young man: "ah, yes my uncle charlie".
nat: "ok kid go in the shop and see johnny the machinist he will start training you, your a linotype machinist assistant now".
(author's note of reference, you could not get a decent job easily in manhattan's printing industry if you were not a relative of a union journeyman).
and so the handsome and strong young man set off everyday, (instead of running off to coney island beach with his friends and some lovely young girls) to catch the sea beach express to go to rector street where he would work 8 to 10 hours a day standing in the middle of 22 linotype machines. the handsome, strong young man would spend his lunch hour walking around cortland, washington and cedar streets and as time passed on he became friendly with all the merchants in the area. on saturday's he would play stick ball in the public school yard on washington street between cedar and albany. the lunch hours and the years passed away, the time in service for his country as a ranger and a l.r.r.p. had passed and now an older man, with receding hairline and a little extra weight was a journeyman in his own right and helping to run the company where he first walked into in 1960. today he looks at the shrouded building he had come to love, the sidewalks and cobblestone streets are gone, the merchants have all passed on as nat and some of the men he started working with have passed on. the old building where edgar allen poe lived in is gone, replaced by a 50 story building, that will be torn down shortly when all the remains of some innocent people will be removed. the area, now known as ground zero, is a memorial to brave, courageous men and women who worked and played there, had dinners and coffee breaks and romance and love and happiness, expecially at this time of the year when happiness and loved ones are most specially appreciated. there are empty sounds echoing through those streets. i can still see the people, bundled up with Chrictmas presents from century 21 and digby's. i can still see them even when a tear flows over their visions. and when i look in the mirror and i look at the old man in there, i stare into his eyes and i can still see the strong,handsome young man there.

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jack: i'm touched that you like my stories

procyon: this is lovely.

Peter: indeed...

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