He’d first seen war in Africa; again in Sicily.
He’d been present on the road to Rome
and followed our boys to victory.
His columns and his articles told of our Men at war.
Sometimes funny, often poignant,
Ernie Pyle reported all he saw.

He went to the Pacific on a transport with Marines.
They were not yet hardened killers,
just a bunch of frightened teens.
Ernie had grave premonitions
But still he took the chance.
He never hid behind the lines-
With the boys he would advance.
He had to see his mission through
To end what he’d begun.
He’d endured five long years of war;
the man without a gun.

In April, nineteen forty five, he went forward in a jeep;
On the island of Ie Shima he had promises to keep.
He himself became the Headline before that day was done
A ******’s bullet found and killed the man without a gun.

The old man grabbed his knee with his hand
and held it stable to allow him to stand.
He reached for his blackthorn stick that served as his cane
and stared out in despair at the down pouring rain.
For weeks it’s been like this; his crops now would fail.
That’s life in the North Hills outside of the Pale.
Once he’d been young, handsome and strong;
Now he walked Stooped over and his sons all were gone;
to England and Canada, some  to the States.
He had infrequent letters to keep track of their fates.
Well, the cash from the quarry had not all been spent
And he owned this place clear; he owed no landlord rent.
It’s just him and his second wife, several pigs and a cow,
All the children had left them long before now.
“There’s no future for me here!” one son had enlisted
That boy died on the Somme and his Father still missed him.
He thought, too, of his favorite, his daughter Kathleen,
Who died of the Flu back in nineteen- nineteen
He reached for his fiddle and rosined his bow;
He sat for a bit, played a tune sad and slow.
This old place was his life, in the hills near Strabane
He had so longed to travel when he’d been a young man;
But those days are long gone, over and done
You are only permitted to dream when you’re young.

The young boy measured the distance carefully
and marked the spot of the imaginary rubber.
He hid the pink spaldeen  behind his right hip,
spreading his fingers over imaginary seams
ready to unleash his curve ball
against the unsuspecting garage door


Day after day the scene repeated.
he was out there in the early spring,
and didn't stop until November snows.
Every day strengthening his right arm
and refining his command
He played out the season in his mind.
He waited for the call to the show that never came-
there not being much demand for a short right hander
who topped out at 90

Someone,  out of kindness, might have told the boy
that he didn't have the talent for the majors.  
I'm glad they didn't
For he had found his version of Heaven
at sixty feet six inches.
God forbid that anyone
should ever  take that away.

His breathe came now in fits and snorts,
for weeks John had been ailing.
His legs were swelled up like balloons
because his heart was failing.

His eyes were glazed with cataracts
for which there was no cure.
Those eyes had seen our nations' birth
Her proud destiny now assured.

He faced death with a humble faith
in a Savior that forgives.
With his last breath they heard him say:
"Thomas Jefferson still Lives."

It's been two years since my uncle passed,
his estate ******* in litigation.
Now that the matter's been resolved at last
the old man's bar is my destination.
It must be cleaned out and prepped for sale.
I drew the short straw, thus begins my tale.

The place was a time capsule of that past
when three ball clubs called New York home.
What to keep, what to discard?
These choices I must make alone.
In my mind's eye I see him here;
holding court behind the bar.
On tap were seven kinds of beer
and bottles on ice if you wanted more.
There was top shelf liquors of every description
He was glad to dispense them without a prescription.
In the back was the kitchen
where my cousins made
Sandwiches for the construction trade
My uncle owned a double store
A bar with a billiards room right next door.

near the back is a pay phone booth;
these use to be everywhere in my youth.
Out of habit I jammed my finger in the slot
in search of change someone forgot.
Just then that ancient phone did ring-
a most extraordinary thing!

"Hello", I said, then, on the other end,
His brogue unmistakable across the years,

was the voice I thought I'd never hear again.

Once upon a time in America
the Sons and Daughters of Liberty
faced down the dragoons of a distant tyrant
and won freedom for themselves and their posterity.

Once upon a time in America
A President held forth for human rights
and freed a people who had been held in *******
after five Aprils of costly, ****** strife

Once Upon a Time In America
brave women rallied to be suffragettes;
No more content to be second class citizens,
They won the vote and haven't looked back yet

Once Upon a Time In America
The teeming masses set out for our shores
They were greeted by the lady in the harbor
who raised the torch of Freedom ever more

Once upon a time in America
we raised brave men the equal of their time;
They spent their prom day storming Norman beaches
and didn't stop until they reached the Rhine.

Once upon a time in America
Men with the "Right Stuff" could still be found
to circle the Earth and reach the nearby moon
returning back here safely to the ground.


That was once upon a time in America.
before the dream was sold and spat upon
Before they pulled the ladder up behind them.
For most of us the dream is dead and gone.

My children both tell me I drive like an old man.
I own up to it proudly for that’s what I am.
I keep cars “forever”, much longer than stocks,
replacing, as needed, brakes, tires and shocks.

Little kids are a handful; let parents take heed.
They need to be monitored due to their speed.
I was driving to Citibank to take out some cash-
from  between two parked cars a little girl dashed

I thank God I saw her dart to and fro.
I also am grateful I was driving so slow.
I stepped on the brake and heard the discs grind.
averting a tragedy, barely, in time.

Her beautiful mother, her eyes close to tears,
retrieved her young daughter, soothing her fears.
Our eyes locked a long moment as our hearts settled down.
Then, with a nod, I relaxed and drove on