East Coast
I lived back east for a year. Northeast.
New York city first.
Then I met a young gal up state.
And moved up her way.
Nearby. Danbury, Connecticut.
Used to be known for millinery, hats.
Lot's of history—everywhere.
You'd walk by a very old house with a plaque mounted outside on a post,
so and so famous American historical person slept here in...
The autumn colors were gorgeous and intense.
The smell in the air of decomposing organic matter in the fall was
intoxicating—portending of the rich season upon us and the next to come.
Frost on the pumpkin as the locals said.
The people could be difficult and stubborn at times.
After all their ancestors stayed, not like the pioneers who went west,
who had to innovate, learn new ways.
Still it was a rich culture, long established and endearing.
I had some friends in another town nearby. Newtown it was called.
They were some wild and crazy characters.
Not in a bad way, but in a fun loving free way.
An occasional influence I looked forward to.
Still I had to support myself. Find work.
Mostly the trades. Sheet metal, mechanics, old factories retooled and waiting.
My first job didn't work out.
I got in an argument with the owner's brother.
We were on a job.
I forgot to put all of his tools back into his tool box.
He came unglued and started yelling at me.
It was the tradesman tradition.
Yell at the helper. Their privilege for their skill and knowledge.
I broke the rule and let him have it back.
I was fired later that day.
On to looking for another gig.
I found it.
A pneumatic casing machine manufacturer.
I learned to use more tools.
They didn't pay me enough to buy my own, so I borrowed from others.
I always returned them at the end of the shift.
There was Tex. Sober when he started working there.
By the time I quit the job, he was loaded all the time.
Most of the mechanics were young.
Some were married.
I was dating my North Salem gal.
And sometimes she would come see me after work.
I introduced her to Tom. A very interesting co-worker.
A rough and ready type. But he also had a sensitivity and innate intelligence.
He worked only when he had to. Otherwise he preferred the free life.
I liked him. I think he liked me.
I helped him once with his car.
He lost the top to his brake fluid chamber just under the hood.
He made a face like an upset child. Didn't know what to do.
I got lucky. I looked in his backseat and spotted an empty brake fluid can
with the same size top—it worked. He was so happy and thankful.
I met some of my girlfriend's friends.
Occasionally had dinner at their homes.
I enjoyed listening to their perspectives on life and their goals in it.
I was a guy in his early twenties traveling around the country.
Unsure of my goals or direction.
Women, even young ones, have instincts about their men.
Things they want from them.
Being a steady earner is most important.
Being dependable and resilient is also near the top of their list.
But I wasn't ready to settle yet.
I was still exploring, figuring, wondering.
So my east coast gal had her work cut out for her.
She was actually born in Germany, but had gone to an American school there.
She was fluent in German and English
Her father was a big executive type.
He designed his career to come to the States and establish himself here.
He did.
Every time I see a movie about east coast characters or hear
Springsteen sing Thunder Road I think of this time.
There is a culture there that gets under your skin.
Like a cuisine you learn to like and get a craving for every once and a while.
I know I'm rambling. Sometimes you have to, to get where you want to arrive.
I'm close to arriving. Just a few more things to cover.
I haven't traveled as much as many of my friends,
but I have done something they haven't.
I've gone to live and work in different parts of the country
because I wanted to know what it was like there.
The people. Their beliefs. Their way of life.
I feel that's the only way to really experience the world around us.
Throw yourself into an unknown situation and cope.
Survive.
Go up against the odds and find your way.
I did quite a bit of that when I was a young man.
I can be a pretty tough cookie if I have to be.
Alone, determined, self propelling.
I have my mother's quiet resolve to keep going,
and I'm very thankful I lived to tell this wandering tale.