Poetry, short stories and a smidgen of real-life drama
Author: Jerry Brotherton
I am The Backyard Poet and I warn you that, not only will I ramble on about nothing but, I have been known to stand upon my soapbox and rant about things I care nothing about just to hear the sound of my own voice. I will try to force my opinion upon anyone willing to pay the slightest attention.
S.I.D.S.
left you cold and motionless. I wondered where you went to in the night. You
left your warm dry bed where hours ago you and your sister cooed and played
with your toes. You gave us no warning. No crying or gasping for final breath.
I heard that you just floated away to heaven, without saying goodbye. They
hurried us into the back room as if we were to believe nothing was wrong. But
we saw your mother’s tears rolling down her cheeks. They put you in the cold
earth and no one ever spoke to us about you.
Ah yes, Independence Day and the fourth of July. I know that way back when, it used to mean something. But like most things, time moved on and the significance of the day has faded. I know I’m suppose to be all patriotic like and what not. You know, have a little national pride for those brave people that risk their lives and some that even gave up their lives to bring me freedom. But I just can’t bring myself to really care that much. I mean, for criminity’s sake, that was a long time ago. Hell us and England are the best of friends now. I remember once when Elmer got into a fight with John Miller after school. They whooped up on each other like it was a blood feud. But when the punching was over, they went on down to Main Street Drug and had a soda together. They don’t go around celebrating the day Elmer lost a tooth and John got that black eye. So I’m thinking that it’s time we just change the name to Freedom Day. Freedom to drink beer, blow things up and not go to work. But come to think of it, here in my little part of the world, that’s just called a weekend.
No one in town ever really talked much
about her. I suppose that hers was the same story that was being told all over
America. Her mother was a native of Korea and her father was just another
broken ex-marine from the USA and neither one had the courage to give her the
love she desperately needed. So she became another neglected trophy from an
invaded country. Just gathering dust in the corner of Podunkville with the rest
of the souvenirs of war. Lust and alcohol brought her into the world. Heroine
and a razor blade relieved her of it.
There
have been more politicians than you can shake a stick at over the decades, including
our current president, that have used some version of this as their battle cry
to rally Americans. We all know that we want America to be great again, but
what is it that we’re really asking for? What will it take for America to be
great? Are we looking for low unemployment, high wages, stock markets on the
rise, low interest rates or low housing costs? I don’t think any of that makes
a difference. So just what is it that we’re after?
I
think that deep down we all have a longing for the nostalgia of something that
never really existed. That we’re looking for a place where Sherriff Taylor and
Barney weren’t just policemen walking a beat, but kind, trustworthy pillars of
the town who are able to keep all crime at bay without carrying a weapon. We
want Marcus Welby to make house calls and keep each of our ailments and secrets
to himself. We want him to hand us prescription drugs right out of his black
bag and take a watermelon as payment. We want little girls in pigtails saying ‘Goodnight
John Boy.” We’re looking for young lads that are willing to take out the trash
and mow the neighbor’s lawn for a homemade cookie and a glass of milk. We’re
looking for adults that help each other out through the tough times and throw bar-b-ques
to celebrate each other’s victories. We want to have our religion back. Where
we all go to church on Sunday and pray before each meal even in restaurants. We
want to see children kneel at the foot of their beds and thank God for another
day. We want to pledge allegiance to the
flag and have it mean more than just some words. We want drug stores to double
as soda shops and barber shops to be where the quartet practices. Yes, we want
hope, prosperity, kindness, honesty and freedom. But we don’t want to work for
them. We want someone to hand it to us on a silver platter.
So
there is always going to be a politicians telling us they will bring back ‘Main
Street’… that they can make a ‘Great America’. But none of them can ever
fulfill those promises.
Because
small towns and Main Streets are not places to visit, they are a way of life. They
are hidden inside each of us. So let’s search inside ourselves and pull them to
the surface. Only through our
action can we make America Great again.
Jerry Brotherton 