As a boy, I'd climb trees in Central Park never looking down, go up as far as I could, then I'd look down. My heart relocated to the outside of my chest and I'd freeze with fear. Rory, a half monkey, climbed over me, under me and around me, telling me I was going to fall and die, and then, I'd be sorry. I'd stay up there overlooking the Great Lawn, Sheep Meadow or Poets Walk until Mom a little worried, bored or tired sitting on the bench below told Dad, "go get him."
While Rory continued circling me like I was a prize banana, Dad ascended the height easily as if he was an Indian who's day job was building expansion bridges over great rivers. Forcefully, he unhinged my arms wrapped around the tree limb I didn't want to leave. Ever. He'd start down, carrying me like a beer barrel tucked into his chest with his right arm. Back on Earth, he'd say don't do it again, I'd lie and say OK as Rory giggled above us, and Mom shook her head slowly side to side lighting a Marlboro from her soft pack.
Fourteen of my framed photographs are on display at the delicious Yorkville Creperie through the end of the year. Please drop by and see them when you can.
hosted by Yorkville Creperie through December 31, 2013
1586 York Avenue (bet 83rd & 84th Street)
|cat & alice|