When Buildings Were Beautiful

he’d stared up in awe
the lanky fifteen year old boy
the boy who’d spent his life on a family farm
in Ashtabula, Ohio
until Mother suddenly died
until Father
not a strong willed or disciplined man
lost the place to the bank

and the kids, all eight of them
piled into
onto the old wagon
and the tired, hungry horse
slowly pulled them away
away from the homestead
away for the last time

a life working on somebody’ else’s farm
was not the future he had in mind
so he jumped off near Cleveland
hopped a train
slept rough
until he’d found himself caught up
swept along in the morning rush
of the bustling hive
that is New York’s Grand Central Station
then spat outside
onto the crowded sidewalk

a fifteen year old farm boy

bewildered

alone

naked on the stage
of unrelenting urban chaos

honking horns
screeching tires
Screaming boys hawking newspapers
and people
more people than he’d ever known

rivers of people streaming in all directions

pushing,
jostling,
hurrying by

and the farm boy from Ashtabula
who’d never seen anything taller
than the presbyterian church steeple
was suddenly lost in a forest of massive monuments
a forest of buildings so big, so tall
he was gasping in astonishment

then he saw it

its glittering spire
towering far above the skyline

and pulled by the sirens in his soul
his feet began walking

which is how a farm boy from Ashtabula, Ohio,
found himself on 42nd Street
found himself gaping up
gaping up at the staggering height
the 1046 feet
of Art Deco magnificence
that is the Chrysler Building

a building standing alone in symmetrical splendor
its triangular windows winking at clouds
its arched stainless steel spire
flashing sunbursts into the nearby heavens
its gargoyles staring
in stony silence
at ant like passersby below

now
fifty years on
boxed in by multi-storied ugliness
she was no longer the tallest
but she still dazzled
a timeless beauty

He looked up and smiled
tipped his hat
to the woman who had inspired a career

then the man
who’d once been a farm boy from Ashtabula, Ohio
turned and walked away

floating on memories of a time

when buildings were beautiful

tio stib aka uncle steve