The World

I had often wished that one of the pictures held something of a past

I had wished that instead of Madrid, 1965, I was given something more. Something like, World Series, 1963. I can picture myself looking up the facts. Who played? What kind of series was it? Were any of the games rained out? I could hunt for something more from this, something unique.

Or, better still, the World's Fair, 1939. I've seen a documentary about that. Out in the Bronx, things moved in `39. People saw a future. The giant sphere held promise. I can imagine my father there, amidst the smell of caramel apples, of popcorn, watching the women racing against dishwashers, new inventions. These women are ragged, pushed to the limit. My father laughs with the crowd. He would see the promise of the future, and agree with the hope. America was untouchable in 1939, but my father wasn't there either.

Before his time. I'm thinking before his time


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