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Sunday, June 16, 2013

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 6/16 - Dad

In honor of my dad on Father's Day, here's an excerpt from a short story, Rude Awakening, I wrote many years ago and was lucky enough to have published. He passed away in 1974:
   The bus wound its way to the bay, where Vito and his mother descended. He was dancing in anticipation as they awaited the change of the traffic light at Emmons Avenue. Once across, he hurried ahead, despite his mother's protestations. He took hold of the railing at his accustomed place and stood on its cement base, looking out to sea. His mother soon caught up.
   "Papa`!" he suddenly, jubilantly cried, rising on his toes.
   "Dove`?" said his mother skeptically, shielding her eyes from the bright sunshine. "Io no vedo."
   He pointed him out to her. His father stood erect, unshielded, at the wheel of the little boat, in characteristic pose, one that reminded Vito of the portrait of George Washington crossing the Delaware that hung in the library of St. Mary's. His mother chuckled as she recognized her husband through her squint. She seemed amazed that her son's vision was so keen, and lovingly ran a hand across his dark crewcut. He was happy that he had at least one trait that made her proud.
   As the boat neared, his father waved, which excited Vito even more. He ran to the dock, his mother shouting at his back. He hurried down the ramp and onto the platform, which swayed in the gentle waters of the bay. The motion made him queasy and afraid, but he refused to show it. His mother remained on the
sidewalk, having no desire to get seasick. His father moored the boat, climbed out, bent, and kissed him and playfully rubbed a two-day growth of beard against his face.
     The wine barrels standing one behind the other at the back of the boat were filled with porgies and bloodied water. His father had had great luck. Vito stared at the fish a moment, then looked away. Their wide-eyed stillness gave him the creeps. He knew fishing was necessary, but he wanted no part of it. He
gagged at the taste of fish, which puzzled his parents, who relished it.
   His mother demanded he return to the sidewalk. He refused. She would not let him go for a ride in the boat, so he would not be denied this lesser pleasure. Her fear seemed irrational - his father would not let him drown. He sensed she was not only concerned for his safety but afraid he would be charmed into following in his father's footsteps. He was amazed at how poorly she understood him.
   The burly young man from the fish store arrived with handcarts. The men lifted the barrels out of the boat and onto the dock. It seemed a wonder that the little boat hadn't sunk under the weight, that the motor hadn't broken down transporting it. Vito marveled at his father's resourcefulness.
   He backed away, as the weight had tilted the dock, which was simply a large floating raft. The men strapped the barrels to the carts and hauled them up the ramp and across the street to the store. Vito hoped he would be as strong someday.
   Randazzo, a paunchy, balding middle aged man dressed in a soiled apron, was waiting at the scale. He weighed the loads, smiled, dug deep into a pocket, and withdrew a thick wad of bills. Vito's father extended a hand and Randazzo counted out $70. Vito was thrilled and proud  - $70 in one day! He gazed
at his mother, hoping she would be satisfied. She too was smiling, silently. His parents rarely exchanged more than a few words, unless arguing, and somehow that argument had begun and continued without end, silently and verbally. Annoyance was the emotion they showed most. Vito wondered if he were the cause of their hostility.
   His father bought him an Italian ice, and they strolled across the street and watched the charter boats come into port. None had been as fortunate as his father. He'd once heard a man say that the captains of some boats followed his father out to sea, knowing they would be rewarded. His father never boasted, and it disappointed Vito. He wanted everyone to know how great the man was.
Vic's 4th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/bszwlxh
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Website: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/
Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tiny.cc/94t5h
Vic's Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3

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