FIDDLER . . . AND CLEANERMAN by jo_dis
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Description
FIDDLER … AND CLEANERMAN
SETTTING
A sterile passage link between the F
And 7 subway lines, unending white
Adorned with art abstractions and odd quotes
From Yeats in gold metallic letters most
Chic critics possibly would grasp but not
The mobs of working class commuters: masked
Sad, empty faces plodding sleepy ways
To somewhere through that testament of cold
Indifference to their simpler tastes in art.
CAST
An ancient wizened dwarf abusing cat
Guts with a horse hair’s noise concerto on
His violin. There was no melody
Just scratching scratching he refused to stop
When I laid down a dollar in his hat.
He had no time for gratitude perhaps afraid
A pause might kill his gift to scratch and scratch.
Then later, waiting for a train, I saw
A tall, gaunt boney black man neatly dressed
In poverty engaged in picking up
Discarded scraps of paper passersby
Had dropped to put them all in bins for trash.
I heard him mutter, “Cleanliness is …”
A godly phase he never finished when
He caught me watching. He just grinned and sighed:
“My brother this is all I have to give.”
jo_dis
2010
Comments (6)
wysiwig
Before there were kings in Israel there were the prophets. There is a story about how the Prophet Samuel was humbled and enlightened. One day he stood in a temple praying when he noticed a woman in the back near the doorway. Head down, she was rocking back and forth and reciting the alphabet. Assuming she was drunk Samuel approached her. "How dare you come into a house of worship like this!" he said angrily. As the woman lifted her head he could see her cheeks were stained with tears. "What is wrong with you woman? Why do you weep?" "I cannot read and do not know the proper prayers" she said. "But why are you reciting the alphabet? he replied. "It is all I have give" she said throught her tears.
neles-e
... Van Morrison relates: "...village idiot, he's complicated Village idiot, simple mind Village idiot, he does know something But he's just not saying Don't you know he's onto something You can see it, you can see it in his eyes Sometimes he looks so happy As he goes strolling by..." .
doarte
Having traveled the 'Ftrain' the experience is heart felt. Truly a study of moments rarely pondered.
TallPockets
''He caught me watching. He just grinned and sighed: “My brother this is all I have to give.”'' Isn't it ironic(?) that those who often have the LEAST give the MOST? I SMILE at my neighbor who proclaims loudly to all within earshot of how many dollars HE 'gave' to others last year. I gently asked him what 'percentage' of his TOTAL income/net worth did that amount to? He turned RED faced and became quickly ANGRY at old TallPockets. Especially, after I next asked him if he deducted it on his 'taxes'? I further told him of another of my neighbors who made a mere pittance of what this man did each year but who, in proportion, gave FAR MORE and who, of the TWO of them, could LEAST AFFORD such. WINK? TERRIFIC writing, as per your usual! You make even DUMB folks like this old man smarter. Believe me, according to MANY, you have done the IMPOSSIBLE. GRINS.
Chipka
What an engaging piece of writing--emotionally rich and full of human dignity! The close is a kicker because it shows, elegantly, and quite gorgeously how human dignity reveals itself in so touching a way, whenever it expresses itself with vulnerability and honesty. This is quite marvelous writing. I don't know the F-train, but I'm well aware of the little tableaus one often encounters when using mass transit; and I'm always amazed at the stark humanity that shows itself--not in those who "have something to show for themselves" but those whose very existence reminds you that even they are someone's children, and that they like everyone else had dreams and ambitions in life, and that luck (more than anything else) had quite a lot to do with not only where they are, but where all of us are as well...
auntietk
The scene is so clear. You have a way with words that paints a picture. Random strangers we see, just doing what they do ... and a connection is made that sticks in the mind all day long. My nerves stand on end to hear the man with the violin, and I have a quiet respect for the one contributing to the fabric of goodwill in the world in a way that makes sense to him. Thank you for this trip into your world!