Once upon a time in The South
Bronx of America ,
I peeled back layers of old carpet to an era where people used newspapers to
line wooden floors. I found a reporter from the 1930s with my first name he
also used as his last. Suddenly I slipped through the rift of imagination and
fell from starry skies to a parallel universe where dreams come true.
“A
glorious place, a glorious age, I tell you! A very Neon Renaissance---And the
myths that touched you at that time---not Hercules, Orpheus and Aeneas—but
Super Man, Captain Marvel, Bat Man”
Tom Wolfe on page 911 in
Years later, I recalled making a
wish to live life like a great American novel, one reading like the science
fiction of a comic book worthy of the shelves of The Public Library, my
childhood Fortress of Solitude. Ms. Raeside, my 6th grade English
teacher, believed I would do it in the near future. Just write what you know,
she advised. I know television.
This
can’t be the future, Gouvernur Morris whispered at the sight of a fog of
darting shadows outside the door of Saint’s Ann church where he had rested. Is
this Purgatory?
It
was the year 1980.
I
stood on the stairs of Saint’s Ann after watching actors confused a working
class audience of Puerto Ricans with theater of “sound and fury signifying
nothing”.
The
drama was outside.
It
was an open drug market shrouded by weather conditions perfect for Jack The
Ripper.
Then
within the smog of addicts came flashes of red and blue lights.
And
war broke out in Heaven, quoted Morris in awful fear at the sound of
sirens.
“LA
POLICIA!”
The
shadows seemed to have scattered into the sewers with the arrival of the blue
angels.
Morris
asked if I was a spirit sent to escort him to Judgment.
No,
but I have need of the Founding Father who came up with the three little words
that add up to the Big Idea: We, The
People.
How
do you know of me, he asked. Who are you, sir?
My
dear Mister Morris, I’m a time lord, the Doctor Who of The South Bronx.
I
have the power to pronounce Fantasy and Reality man and wife at Saint Ann ’s Church.
And
this blog is their baby in the womb of cyber space.
Chapter
One: I am reborn.
Midnight
In The South Bronx By Danny Aponte
Copyrighted
2012
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