CONTINUING LEGACY, CONTINUING STORY

When a continuing legacy includes another brick in the wall, or sidewalk, it’s a reminder.

Who does this?

I do, as part of a group, a family group.

What’s it a reminder for? The path ahead.

I’ve walked this great nation from end to end, which isn’t to say I’ve walked across.

I’ve walked on both sides, NYC and LA, Philadelphia and ‘Frisco, Portland and Asheville.

In NYC I remember a long walk on a sidewalk with guys propped up with their backs against a building, legs sticking straight out.

 

The Bowery is one of the great highways of humanity, a highway of seething life, of varied interest, of fun, of work, of sordid and terrible tragedy; and it is haunted by demons as evil as any that stalk through the pages of the “Inferno.”

— Theodore Roosevelt from “Dante and the Bowery,” 1913

 

I was there in 1978. It looked like everyone had made a bad wrong turn in their lives and found their place.

No 5th Ave flash for the fellas.

Everyone of them would have a great recovery story when they got back to where they came from.

Or they’d die with their backs against the wall , their legs sticking straight out.

I didn’t see a third option on my way through, just destitute men defeated by life, along with drugs and booze.

 

Many years later I was a family man visiting the in-laws in LA.

The kids were in the pool and I forgot my swimsuit.

My mother in-law, sitting poolside, said don’t worry about it.

“You don’t need a suit.”

I thought about it. 

 

Another Brick In The Wall

I was Regular Army (RA) in Philadelphia, the ultimate brick in the wall.

PFC Gillaspie reporting.

I drove an ambulance at the Defense Personnel Support Center, a mile square fenced government factory sewing any and everything for the military in the northern hemisphere, among other things.

During a run from the clinic to a hospital with a woman having a heart attack strapped in back, the TDY sergeant criticized my driving.

 

New Sergeant: This is reckless driving. I’m reporting you if you don’t stop.

Me: It’s South Philly. This is how they drive and you’re not going anywhere if you don’t do the same.

Sergeant: You’re not following protocol from Ft. Dix.

Heart Attack Lady: Leave him alone, he’s doing fine. Floor it honey.

 

We left her with the local emergency room crew.

The temporary sergeant filling in for Kanefsky drove back after ordering me to hand over the keys.

Once back at the center he spoke to the captain, who was also a doctor.

A few days later he called me into his office.

 

Captain: The new sergeant wants me to file a report on you, said you were an erratic driver who didn’t obey traffic signals.

Me: Yes, sir.

Captain: He said you over-used the lights and siren. Did you?

Me: Yes, sir.

Captain: You seem amused. Is this funny to you?

Me: Yes, sir.

Captain: Why is that, private.

Me: Sir, in this neighborhood you have two choices, the main roads, or the side streets. Take the main roads and you might end up with a dead passenger while you wait.

I take the side streets, the ones double-parked on both sides, and blast the siren. The neighbors know what to do. I lay on the horn and the street opens up. 

Captain: The new sergeant said you had the window down waving?

Me: Yes, sir. I was waving and pointing forward to keep moving. 

Captain: Did you find this effective?

Me: Yes, sir. Every time.

Captain: Every time?

Me: Yes, sir. Kanefsky lives here and he taught me how to drive in South Philly.

Captain: I also have a letter of recommendation from the woman you took to the hospital. She’s in charge of procurement. No wonder she had a heart attack. She said you were amazing and that the sergeant was the biggest problem.

Me: Yes, sir. But they usually come around.

Captain: I won’t be filing his report, but I’d like to ride along on your next hospital run. This traffic is killing me.

Me: Yes, sir.

 

San Francisco?

I was driving up from San Diego with the then teenaged kids and no mom on I-5 and asked if they wanted to take a left turn at Sacramento for Frisco.

They wanted to get home.

 

The Present Future

This is the shadow of a little girl on the bricks of her grandparents and great-grandparents.

What says continuing legacy better than that?

It’s a reminder to leave the place better than you found it for their sake.

If you remember what it was like being four, isn’t it fun?

It’s tricky, but you can get there.

Think of the first house you lived in, that you can still see in your imagination.

Now consider your first memories and locate where you lived at the time.

Match them up.

I was four or five when Fat Alex from across the street accidentally hit my brother in the head with the backswing of a baseball bat while he clubbed a ball down the gutter in front of our house.

Four or five when my farm-raised dad brought a live chicken home to show the kids how it’s done from start to feather-plucking finish.

After he chopped the head off the body ran around flapping its wings and flew over the fence into the neighbor’s backyard.

We all walked over together to get our chicken.

Ahhh, the memories, and shadow girl will have her own.

 

PS: One way to help little girls as they grow into young women is making sure they are the equal of anyone.

PSS: Equal opportunity, equal pay, so when the day comes and sun is overhead casting no shadow, they will know they are part of a continuing legacy, more than another brick in a wall.

Make it happen. Even if you get reported for recklessness, do it for your shadow.