We Never Would have Met, Norwegian Girl……..by Robert M. Katzman
By Robert M. Katzman © Mother’s Day 2012 (37 years later)
If
Jacob the Carpenter
Hadn’t left
Mogilev, Byelorussia
In 1901
Traveling from
New York to Kentucky
to
Chicago
and there met
Rose from Lithuania
We never would have met
If the
Polish Border Guards
Hadn’t just missed
Jacob
When they thrust
their
Killing bayonets
Into the haywagon
He hid under and escaped in
We never would have met
If Beautiful Teenaged Celia
Alone and from Poland
hadn’t
Waitressed in
Beer Halls
All across Germany
to
Hamburg
To sail to America
Relentlessly Traveling
from
New York to Seattle
to
Whiting, Indiana
to
Meet and Marry
Nathan from Minsk
And then move to the
East Side of Chicago
We never would have met
If my tough scarred Father
Israel
from the
Rough and Tumble
Jewish
West Side of Chicago
Hadn’t returned from
World War II
and become
Dazzled
by
Sensuous Anna
The Artist and Designer
We never would have met
If I hadn’t fled in
Terror
at Fourteen
from the
Crazed and Violent
Artist and Designer
to
Hyde Park, Chicago
We never would have met
A year later
If I hadn’t
Built and Opened
a
Wooden Newsstand
with
Rick Munden
to survive on
Hard
Chicago Streets
We never would have met
If you hadn’t left
Dalton, Illinois
for Hyde Park
To learn to play
Tennis
and maybe
Just maybe
Find a Guy
We never would have met
When the two
Steel and Speeding
Illinois Central Trains
Smashed and Telescoped
Inside of one another
October 30, 1972
Horribly Killing
Forty-Four Commuters
Except that
You
were in the
Next Train
Behind them
We never would have met
If your
Tennis-Playing Pal
Krystal
Who was also
My Customer
Hadn’t introduced us
at a
Hyde Park Dance
in a
Unitarian Church
Well, maybe
We never would have met
You were so demure
Pink pants-suit
Quiet, shy
Smiling
Norwegian Girl
Me
Scrubbed and Trapped
Jewish Guy
Uncomfortably
and
Uncharacteristically
in a
Suit and Tie
We talked for hours
And never even
Danced
You left with Krystal
But first
Inviting me:
“Join us for coffee?”
I said:
“Nope, sorry
Gotta get up early
to
Open my Newsstand”
Too Shy
Too Dumb
To even ask for
Your phone number
And we went our separate ways
Except,
You wouldn’t take
“No”
For an answer
Determined
Focused
Norwegian Girl
Deciding
Evidently
that
the
One Guy
who
Wouldn’t hit on you
was
the
One Guy
for you
How could I know?
Three days later
After work
On the
Illinois Central Train Platform
Instead of
Going Home
South to 53rd Street
You turned
North to 51st Street
To say
“Happy Birthday!”
to me
At my
Newsstand
Except
This time
Dressed to Kill
You found me
Moments later
Shirtless and Sweating
Dirty and Abrupt
Tying up
Heavy Bundles
of
Old Magazines
To return for credit
Not
in any way
Expecting
You–
Stunning
Norwegian Girl
To reappear into
My
Empty Life
Not expecting your:
Long Shining Blond Hair
Your Short Skirt
Your Dynamite legs
Your Big Smile
and the
Promise
Awaiting me
Behind
Your Big Blue Eyes
You Approved
of the
Gritty
Sweating
Exasperated
Chicago Newspaper Guy
Now
Frozen and Speechless
before you
And Beautiful You
were thinking:
Exactly
how long
would it take
me
To realize
You
Were the Girl
For me?
On behalf of all of our
Children and Grandchildren
The answer was:
Not very long, at all
Even a rough
Newspaper Guy
was
Smart enough
to
Get the message
You were sending
I think
all of those
“Never-Would-Have-Mets”
were always
“Meant-to-Bes”
My Destiny
was
Waiting for me
Right there in your Smile
Nearly Forty years later
I love you intensely
Norwegian Girl
About the writer and his other life in Skokie, Illinois:
My Store Twitter: @MagazineMuseum
My Stories Twitter: @ChicagoKatzman
Bob Katzman’s Magazine Museum: 100,000 periodicals back to 1576!
Wall of Rock: 50 years of cool Rock periodicals on display & for sale
4906 Oakton St. (8000 north and 4900 west) Skokie, Ill 60077
(847)677-9444 Mon-Fri: 10 am to 5 pm / Weekends: 10 am to 2 pm
Katzman’s Publishing Company site: www.FightingWordsPubco.com
Katzman’s online non-fiction stories: www.DifferentSlants.com
Poetry? For me, writing poetry is not an option.
It’s a response to emotion. Like cigarette smoke,
it’s fast-flowing, shapeless and with little time to capture it.
Writing poetry in an imperative. I say what I feel compelled to say.
I sell my five published books via mail order and accept major credit cards.
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Fast, reliable service. Read my stories and see what you think.
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Feel free to call me at the number above.