Choo Choos, Parts 1-3

I.

The gentleman looked out the window,

eager to see the change in the Virginia countryside

with the Civil War over and the Union once more.

He occasionally looked down at his newspaper

to learn the latest developments in Washington

and gossip among the powerful and elite.

His wife would sometimes get his attention

and he would respond by speaking to her,

shaking or nodding his head.

All the while the choo choo kept blowing its whistle and belching its smoke

chugging its way south,

clickety-clacking down the tracks.

II.

Nearly 100 years later, a gentleman in a suit

asked another man in a pin-striped uniform,

“What’s your wife’s name, and what’s she like?” 

The baseball player known as Choo Choo responded,

“Her name is Mrs. Coleman — and she likes me, Bub.”

III.

The gentleman looked out the window, 

staring blankly at the old Virginia towns and landscape

after another contentious week in our United States.

He occasionally looked down at his phone

to read the latest newsfeed and tweets 

and gossip among the powerful and elite.

His girlfriend would sometimes get his attention

and he would respond by speaking to her,

shaking or nodding his head.

All the while the choo choo kept blowing its whistle and drinking its diesel 

chugging its way south,

clickety-clacking down the tracks.

copyright 2018, Charles A. Bruns

The Brighton Bar, the Movie Screening

You know what to expect

but never sure what you’ll get

when you walk inside the Brighton Bar.

And thus it was with the Brighton Bar movie screening.

“If you have a black ticket, you can come inside,”

said the lady from the historical association.

“Tickets? I didn’t know we needed tickets,”

responded the dozens waiting outside the screening room.

“If you want to see the second screening, take a green ticket,”

explained the lady from the historical association.

“Go to the Brighton Bar and have a drink while you wait.”

And around the corner walked some of the huddled masses.

But, the Brighton Bar was closed — its staff and patrons

had gone around the corner to see the documentary movie.

So back out in the cold walked the huddled masses 

to wait for the second screening of the movie.

“Shhhhh,” beckoned the lady from the historical association

as the huddled masses buzzed in anticipation outside the screening room.

But they didn’t need to stay quiet for long,

for a technical difficulty had delayed the first showing.

After an hour, the patrons from the first screening emerged

smiling, chatting, seemingly relieved at the experience.

And in marched the green ticket holders, smiling, chatting,

in anticipation of being entertained by the Brighton Bar movie.

The co-host from the library welcomed the patrons 

and invited them to enjoy soda and popcorn.

Then the lights dimmed, and the movie came alive

to the cheers of the second screening crowd.

The moviegoers roared as familiar faces appeared on the screen.

They cheered as footage from years gone by rekindled memories.

They booed when the video reminded them of unwelcome changes

and applauded when it all ended.

They filed out with smiles across their aging faces.

Some repaired to nearby watering holes,

others simply drove home.

But one walked around the corner to the Brighton Bar.

“Hi, I just saw the documentary and realized

I never bought one of your t-shirts,” he said,

pointing to the display of items for sale behind the bar.

“Do you have a men’s size medium?”

A moment passed as the bartender spoke to the owner.

“Actually, we’re out of them and don’t know 

when we’ll be getting some more,” he told the man.

“What do you want to drink?”

The man waved him off and walked out to head home.

You know what to expect

but never sure what you’ll get

when you walk inside the Brighton Bar.

Copyright 2018, Charles A. Bruns

The Bard at the Hard Rock

He needs no introduction. Sure enough, Bob Dylan did not get one last night. Neither did his band from him, for that matter. The audience at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Atlantic City, in fact, did not get a hello or any acknowledgement from The Bard as he went through his 20-song setlist in under two hours. What they did get, however, was an exhibition of American music history from a 77-year-old legend on the latest leg of his Never Ending Tour, which began 30 years ago and someday will end.

As he always does, Bob breathed new life into his old songs, including “Like a Rolling Stone” and “Blowin’ in the Wind.” He also gave new life to his 21st century songs, including four selections from his most recent album of original material, Tempest. Nearly all the songs were performed slower and softer than originally recorded, often crooned, always in his unique voice. Bob covered many of his songs like it was a poetry recital, which makes some sense from a Nobel Prize in Literature recipient whose words are considered poetic. The sound and song selection, including “Make You Feel My Love” and “Love Sick,” at times made it feel a romantic evening for many in the crowd who still can find romance in spoken words.

When the last note of “All Along the Watchtower” faded away and the Etess Arena lights went on, Bob and his band were back on the bus for their next one-night stand in Springfield, Massachusetts, leaving everyone in Atlantic City to settle for the various artifacts from his career on display at the Hard Rock. Eventually, the tour will make its way to New York City for seven shows at the Beacon Theatre and its last stop in Philadelphia. If you haven’t seen The Bard and his band in concert, don’t you dare miss it. 

Family Family

Swish, swish, "What goes on out there?"

Some yelling, some tears, much heartache.

"Ah, a boy! How cute. He looks just like me."

More yelling, more tears, lots of heartache.

Disappointment. Embarrassment. Shame.

The boy goes out to sail.

The winds blow east, they blow west.

The clouds thicken, then pour rain.

He can barely stand. 

The forces knock him down

and he falls in the water.

Drenched, he climbs back onboard

naked, shivering, crying.

Over and over.

Disappointment. Embarrassment. Shame.

Family.

The boy grows into a man.

He can withstand the wind.

The rain bounces off his skin.

He jumps into the water

and climbs back onto the boat.

He dries himself off slowly

and looks up at the sun,

eyes closed, heart open.

Swish, swish, "What goes on out there?"

Some lullabies, some smiles, some joy.

"Ah, a boy! How cute! He looks just like me."

More lullabies, more smiles, lots of joy.

Satisfaction. Confidence. Pride.

The man goes out to sail.

He steers his boat calmly, deftly.

Protected from a passing shower,

he resumes enjoying his time at sea.

The sunset is beautiful 

and he admires the view of it.

Back ashore, he looks forward

to a restful, fulfilling evening.

Over and over.

Satisfaction. Confidence. Pride.

Family.

(Postscript:)

Mix some light tones into a dark color

and a medium shade appears.

Add brighter tones into a medium color

and a lighter hue appears.

Just like the family some people 

are born into.

Just like the family some people

create for their loved ones.

Copyright Charles Bruns, 2018 

Bruce: better late than never

I was late to the Bruce Springsteen party. Although I like many of his songs, I was never a huge fan of his music except for a few months after the release of Born to Run, for whatever reason.

Living on the Jersey Shore, just a couple blocks from where he wrote the songs for his 1975 breakout album, has given me a different perspective on Bruce. Reading his autobiography while on vacation earlier this month has heightened my appreciation of him.

Coincidentally or not, I was able to purchase tickets earlier this week for a Springsteen on Broadway performance in September. It is the first time my wife and I will see him. Better late than never, I guess!