A young child, on board a boat, fleeing for his life, his dad playing the slots,
His dog Waldman left behind with relatives who would be murdered by their neighbors
He plays baseball and hopes to go to games at the Polo Grounds, maybe to make the majors
He hangs out with friends, gets bored by mumbled words in Synagogue, dances and canoodles with girls,
He delivers chickens from his dad's butcher shop, and shines shoes on the street,
Goes to city college, gets a sales job that he keeps for 50 years, saves, invests,
Loses his dad in his twenties- heart attack, at work, his mom not long after- diabetes
Serves in Panama as an office clerk, writes detailed letters to friends,
Marries a non-German Jewish girl, leaves Washington Heights for Queens, stays for 60 years
Buys a modest house, commutes to city for work, has two kids, two heart attacks, survives
Gives his sons a Jewish education, says often he regrets he didn't get one himself
Dotes on his sister,and her family, before and after they move to Israel
Repeats routines: work, family, the day to day quiet heroism of a seemingly simple life
Eventually retirement can't be staved off, nor a backwards fall down a flight of stairs,
He continues to survive, like a Superman who never puts on the costume, but the bullets still bounce off
And he sticks it out with his wife, till the day she dies, soon after his mouth to mouth resuscitation is unsuccessful
And he becomes an old man in his eighties, in assisted living, playing poker for pennies
He spends his time with a widow his age, a sweet Israeli woman named Sarah, who reminds him of his mother
And he gets colds that he brushes off as nothing, because they are nothing, until one is maybe pneumonia
And he's taken to the hospital where he leaves this life,
And he lives on, in the heart of this poet, his son, who loves him and is loved by him, always.
