all on time borrowed

Inscribed on edge: borrowed

LEISTER'S STORE

Several years ago I bought a dollar watch from Leister's Store in Pleasant Valley, Maryland. They used to be called "dollar watches" in the old days. When I bought this one from Miss Jane (Leister) I was surprised to find a place that still sold them, and still a bargain at $9.95!

I knew it would be a souvenir for me, so I painted an inscription on the back: "Souvenir of Leister's Store, Pleasant Valley MD." Then to make sure it didn't scratch off in my pocket rubbing against coins or whatever, ( I still carry it; it still runs) I painted several coats of colorless nail polish over it.

Leister's Store is no longer an operating general store. It's days were numbered as all things are. It was grandfathered that the store could remain so close to the road, when the small town thoroughfare was widened little by little. When Mr. Paul died several years ago, his wife Miss Jane kept the store running, selling the same mix of miscellany, including penny candy for the children and milk and eggs and the like as a convenience for the small town residents of (sneeze and you're past it!) Pleasant Valley. I have some rolls of old-fashioned fly paper from Leister's.

The kindly nature of the Leisters brought people like that fly paper from many parts. Their clientele remained solid until Miss Jane's time ran down and she too passed. She had a little dog that was her great and beloved companion.

Now some thoughtful parties in Pleasant Valley have in mind to make the old store a community memories museum. Funds and donations are being sought, I noticed during our Christmas 2007 visit.

I want to offer my pocket dollar watch if there is an interest for it. I guess you could still find these watches, but in very few places, I think. The maker, Westclox, is still in business. But, the Leisters' sold them, and that made all the difference.

The interest, if any, might come from the fact that the buyer recognized then (2o years ago?)that it would be a collector's item. Bless the beloved Leisters, and may they rest in peace up on the hill.

a delightful link on Pleasant Valley:

http://tiger.towson.edu/users/swagne5/family.htm

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Zepata, episode 2

You do NOT want to mess with this guy!

(the real ZAPata, not this storyteller pretender below)

DEDICATED TO HIS SPIRIT

…………………………………………………..

ZEPATA AND EL DAYO
Instalment 2

Zepata dismounts El Dayo
at two on the day of
coming home
to his sanctuary and
real woman

The sun so hot it beats tremors
through Dayo's hide
Zepata's left hand resting on Dayo
feels the ripples
the only signs Dayo gives
and they are involuntary
that the steady horse requires surcease
from the relentless sun

The shells in the crossed bandoliers
need to be pulled into the shade of
Zepata's chest out of the sun like turning meat
on a spit
their heat searing through leather and denim
weltering Zepata's lash-scarred back
Law-key they not 'splode
Murmurs Zepata

Zepata says easy boy
and swings his studded
boot over and down to the ground
and pulls the cartridge-bulging
saddle bags off the horse's back

Dayo knows
it is for siesta he does this
needed if they are
to make it to their real women
Yes Dayo has a woman too
Stallion El Dayo

Zepata takes his canteen
swishes it around to read
its contents
smiles and pours a long stream
of water into Dayo's sand-crusted
spittle-dried sneering snorting
determined maw

The stallion stops drinking before
he is sated for he is the
saviour's mount and
El Dayo has a duty to
the master
How can but a mere horse know this?

Zepata swings the canteen
above his gaping mouth
and waters himself long
the water swilling over his dusty
whisker-rasped
weather-beaten face
as well as flowing down Zepata's
parched throat

But he stops short of emptying
the canteen
Stops because the last draught
Is saved for El Dayo
who must insure arrival
on this last leg of their pilgrimage
A promise to Real Woman Irena:
Zepata will return

The journey to the safety of the hideaway
and the strong compelling scent
of his real woman
and Dayo's mare in season
The fleeing man and horse
will make it by nightfall
if they rest now

They will need the rest
for homecoming
oh yes oh yes
they will need the rest
for homecoming

When the sun is past its apogee
Zepata and Dayo
emerge from the shade of
the rocks
two similarly stinking creatures
Two more hours
and they'll be home

By now the grade is so steep
that the stones loosened from their
tentative resting places by Dayo's
driving hooves
clatter down the mountainside
musically like a xylophone

Zepata surveys the Mexican panorama
From this high up he sees far
the land of his ancestors
who were Indians
their blood pounding up the mountain
for Zepata and his horse

Blood flowing upstream
Against gravity
Up Zepata's pulsing carotids
refreshing reminding rekindling
love of freedom
love of land
love of woman


Zepata leans forward and rests
his chest on Dayo's neck
the rider's arms encircle the horse
and he beats out a slow ancient rhythm
on Dayo's breastbone
It encourages his mount

Ah Dayo Dayo Dayo
I loving you my goot friend
We have covered territory together
They have tried to shoot us down
As they kill our women and children
but they never succeed
We take their boolets
like we take shots at the saloon
or at the Jesuit clinic

We take zem and we dissolve them
in Mexican blood
and we piss them out like so mach water
Eh my friend?
Forking A, amigo
Forking A, my hoe-worse

Zepata sleeps again
While Dayo picks a careful way
up the ensteepening incline
weaving switchbacks
like the flight of a nectar-seeking
half-ton butterfly


They come into the clearing
and the hasty home
made of boards and rudimentary amenities
taken to this place
by faithful revolutionaries
who fight at Zepata's side
so much do they love and protect
Zepata

No one reaches Zepata's aerie
No one they vow as they wait
In their encampment far below
And they know Zepata needs to be
With Irena

Real woman and mare make a confluent
whinnying sound at the sight of their men
Manes toss
Six long and lithe legs rush
to their long-awaited merger

Dayo's breath comes quickly
and Zepata warrior bold
sits up rampant in the soon to be
uncinched slung-down saddle
a rampancy like never before
One last attention atop Dayo

No plumb line has length
Sufficient to the measure of his
cavernous thirsts
Irena shall bathe Zepata
The mare shall care for Dayo
Dayo faithful servant
To May Hee Ko's hero:

Vive Zepata!

[5-19-98]

Were you pulled by the 400?


The 400 was the Chicago and Northwestern's
First mile-a-minute
Steam-operated streamliner
Regularly scheduled to operate
Over a distance of 200 miles
Its name came from its unheard-of ability
To pull a train 400 miles
In less than 400 minutes
And the name suggested the future
The next decade

The 400 was introduced on January 2, 1935
And in 1936
It got the first oscillating headlamp
A safety feature for high-speed trains
People and animals weren't used to such swiftly-approaching
Danger

Here comes the 400
Waukesha kids would shout
Those of us lucky enough to live
Near the tracks in the 1940s

We would run down through Silurian Park
Then source of still-coveted Waukesha water
To the train depot to see the 400
Hoping it would stop
In its mighty glory
Sometimes it even had an American flag
Flying above the oscillating safety lamp

I walk that way now
Water debunked
A legend gone plain
Flags out of style among the hip
The war is over
Trains rusty drones
Competing with trucks
The good buddies of the roadway
In our way
Maybe sporting flag decals
Next to permit decals on their window glass
Beating out the iron rails
Not quite yet no never

But in the 40s the 400 ruled
Among the regular high smoke-stacked
Black as coal
Guts-hanging-out-for-all-to-see
Steam engines
Pausing at the Waukesha depot
At the foot of Silurian park to take on water
Give entertainment to TV-less children
And get their giant wheels oiled

By trainmen in bib overalls
Their bucket oil cans with specially long spouts
And their watch chains guarding
Marvelous timepieces tucked in
Those upper blue and gray striped pockets
Watches that were cherished
Possessions
Setting those men apart
Amidst the bursts of steam trackside
Like dry-ice effects on a stage

Times were hard and my mother and grandmother
Would warn me at dusk
Don't go down there
There are tramps down there
And there were sometimes
But I never saw one that meant
Me any harm
Come on

Like the 400 and the other plainer trains
The tramps were transitory
Unlike today's homeless
They were said to hole up briefly
In camps outside of town
Sometimes they would beg door-to-door
And leave a secret mark
Where they were treated Kindly

I featured them cooking stews in old tin cans
Staying away, embarrassed
But I never truly met a tramp to find out
They didn't seem to want to know us
And we didn't seem to want to know
Them in the 1940s

My church was and is just on the other side
Of those train tracks
And I don't remember them teaching us
To worry about these homeless people
Like they encourage us to do now
But they might have done
I was little
I wondered

The mighty 400 flew through town
Sometimes at night without stopping
It's oscillating headlamp showing
Like Diogenes' lantern
It might have been looking for an honest man
An honest boy
An honest tramp

It was an elite train bent on getting
Where it was going
It's trainmen a cut-above
Their denims seemed starched
Their watches looked even better
The uncluttered lines of this engine
Showed little of what was going on
Inside

A thing of wonder in the change of the age
I saw men stopped at railroad crossings
Interrupted by the coursing 400
Not cursing their bad luck
But getting out of their cars and doffing their hats
At the swiftly arriving and disappearing
Engineer who would wave

An eddy of wind left behind
Might swirl a newspaper and dust up into the air
And in a moment the 400 was gone
What happened?

There are still pictures of the 400 in the museum here
And a local tavern across from the depot
Still bears its name
Reliquaries hold the engines remaining now

We would put our small feet on the tracks
To feel the power of the still-out-of-sight
Incredible behemoth 400
Horn blaring its look out
No old-fashioned bell dinging
Look out for the swinging beam

So connected
We felt
We were going somewhere

And the tramps rode the rails
A mile a minute sometimes
If they were pulled by the 400


[David Dix 1936 - ]

Zepata

The saga of Zepata

only similar to Zapata

The sunlight catches the tip
of Zepata's nose
A wry smile escapes his otherwise
stern countenance

Zepata has had victory today
and has ridden back up into the hills
of his friendly district
the peasants offering him their
chickens, daughters, homes

But Zepata smiles his appreciation
and rides his stallion on
The faithful mount
The horse, bearing not only Zepata
but enough ammunition for a week's standoff

A steed worth to him
all the chickens, daughters and homes
of May-Hee-Ko
for this steed El Dayo
Knows all yet Dayo tells not

El Dayo has gotten Zepata out
of many a fix
saved his life so many times
Neither Zepata nor Dayo
have enough fingers and toes
to count
Especially El Dayo
Zepata smiles broadly

Dayo only asks for a friendly pat
and a bucket of oats a day
Oh how well Zepata knows what
the chickens, daughters and homes
always tendered require:
Maintenance that is what

So homeward it is
Zepata and Dayo climb
up the mountainous route known only to Zepata
and his faithful compadre
The Federalis ho ho
They never find

Night falls and Zepata finds the escarpment
where his small campfire will not be seen
in the valley below
hunted as he always is
Dayo is turned loose for the night
He never wanders far

Next night there will no scrub
and no creek-ets
Zepata love creek-ets
They put him to sleep
But in the high country Zepata
must call home
There are no creek-ets

Morning breaks
Zepata works the kinks from his
war-worn body as he painfully rises from
his blanket roll
Dayo he calls
Day-ay-ay-OH
Daylight come and
Me wan go home

From a distance comes the sound
of thundering hoofbeats
Man and beast soon to be re-united
Another ascension past peasants and
their chickens, daughters and homes
On to where his rude hut and
Real Woman await

The woman who knows she has Zepata
The woman who knows how to please Zepata
The woman
She awaits her hero
May-Hee-Ko's saviour
It will be good again this time

[dd]
…………………………………………………..