September 2017
I am a poet, writer, photographer, sometime artist, musician, singer/songwriter. Born and bred in Chicago, I now live in sunny South Florida with my wife of 52 years Sheila, where we spend considerable time spoiling our four grandchildren. My full-length work Gallery: A Collection of Pictures and Words (Scarlet Leaf Publishing) is forthcoming in latter 2017. Poets & Writers Directory author listing:https://www.pw.org/content/howard_debs
All American
We headed up Florida’s Turnpike,
passed by Sebring, remembering
the racetrack, one of the oldest
around, what most people don’t know
in World War II it was an airfield
where Flying Fortress pilots trained
then a fellow named Ulmann
came along, converted the runways
to a raceway, endurance was the
mainstay, hosted the U.S.’ first
Formula One like the European
Grand Prix; passed by Orlando
where a guy who drew a cartoon
mouse created what he imagined
could be a new world, E.P.C.O.T.
“Experimental Prototype Community
of Tomorrow” now called Disney World;
passed by Valdosta, where cotton was
king before the time of the Civil War
and after until the boll weevil came
calling down south then the town
reinvented itself with turpentine,
it’s Friday night lights there too,
voted an ESPN “Titletown USA”
passed by Tifton, where the Peanut
Growers Association once sponsored
The Peanut Butter Lovers of America,
passed by Macon, thinking of
peaches and pecans--
on to Atlanta, the hub of the Southeast,
passed by the alpha city’s skyline,
ragtag parts of town, palatial neighborhoods
scented with Margaret Mitchell’s
Gone With the Wind, just making it thru
the gates of the cemetery in time
for the funeral. Uncle Bill Rubin
passed away at 91. He started life in Cleveland;
an orphan, a navy man, an engineer’s
mind, a salesman’s savvy, a heart
of gold, he worked his way from stock boy
to Swank VP big in the menswear industry
in his day he notched his belt with
boxing, tennis, golf trophies, accolades from
the myriads he befriended, helped, hosted with his
display of Midwest mixed with southern charm,
in boardrooms and dining rooms from
New York to California; sharing space
alphabetically in the Journal-Constitution obituaries,
taking his leave on the same weekend another
Atlanta staple, Joe Rogers, co-founder of Waffle House;
at 97 he fittingly died after having dinner with his wife;
the diner chain a veritable meeting place for
late-niters and early-risers, the hoity-toity
and the hoi polloi; we had a good eight hours driving
back going straight through the night without extra
stops, but those iconic signs kept passing by,
it was meant to be; we sat on stools
at the counter, spectators to the short order grill-man
and waitresses working their wonders, Cheese N’ Eggs,
Steak & Eggs, City Ham, Country Ham, Hashbrowns
capped and smothered, Bacon Lover’s B.L.T.
hold the mayo; Joe Rogers had the idea, Bill Rubin too
it’s not about the food, it’s about the people.
First published in Florida English Journal.
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© 2017 Howard Richard Debs