Friday, July 9, 2010


"The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It's been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. ...this game, is a part of our past. It reminds us of all that once was good, and it could be again. Ohhhhhhhh, people will come, Ray. People will most definitely come." 
~Terrence Mann (James Earl Jones) from "Field of Dreams"

Just a game.
A thread in the fabric
of Americana; ranks with
Mom's apple pie,
Dad's Chevrolet.
But we'd play for hours.
Breaking windows,
crushing flowers.
On youth's field,
yielding the promise
of a future bright.
In the light of Doubleday,
we'd play. No visions 
of Cooperstown or
World Series heroics,
just a stoic jaunt through
a dirt infield. Days past,
and present futures strong,
I long for the days to play.
We built our dreams on
that field. If you build it,
dreams will come.
And they did.

                                                                                                                     Photo by Walt Wojtanik


On Erie's shore
just south of Buffalo;
in the shadow of Bethlehem Steel,
Woodlawn Beach languishes.
Sand strewn with drift wood,
seaweed interwoven between
seashells and toes; rocky layers
stubbing and protruding, eluding
them was a battle.
Passing years brought stench,
abandoned Steel Plant stands,
an ominous reminder of the decay.
Dead fish and gulls where children played,
now they stay off shore. No more
escaping or scraping memories out of
her unkempt shell. Just as well.
Woodlawn Beach is closed again.
This Year. Every year.