Readers, surfers, friends, all

With your indulgence this morning, the 60th anniversary of this dissector’s travels, may I intrude upon your attention for a few moments for some verse that I scribbled a few weeks back as I flew back to the land that may no longer pledge allegiance to G-d. As the son of a real poet, I have, from time to time, tried to express myself this way. Last week, I was in Boston with my brother Bill. He has become enamored with Walt Whitman, that bard of bards, so I realize in that light that these droppings of mine may not qualify as “real poetry.” But here’s a reflection/introspection for your consideration.

FASTENING SEAT BELTS WHILE DESCENDING TO NEW YORK

Flight 400, Berlin to Babylon, June 2002

I was born in a June like this one, l942

A June like this one , early morning four wars ago

A child of the 40’s from a world that is long gone

Decades back a Century past.

See it on the History Channel.

**

We were on our way into Berlin then,

I just found my way out

Home again, JFK, again

Passport scrutinized, stamped, welcomed home

I blinked, wondering how many more trips

there are for me to take

No matter where I go

That’s where I am

**

I blinked again, and suddenly l960 became Sixty

Another marker, a new transition point

Ignition sans tuition to erudition

The Mission: staying the moment we are in,

Search for more room to have a say, ey

Keep on, keeping on

**

I am flashing back now on

the itineraries of a life without a travel agent

Without drivers meeting me at customs

Without a road map,

Dan Eldon was right, cliché or not–

“The Journey is the destination”

**

Life’s learning flashes through neurons

RLS Elementary School in Boogie Down Bx

Fannie Lou Junior High a Delta away

IF Stone Media University

BA: Clinton News, Dialogue

MA: Ramparts, WBCN

Ph.D: CNN, ABC 20/20

Post Doc: GV, MC, Imagining TV

And in that life beyond media life

From sds to SDS, LSD to LSE, yippie

**

In Motion, always commotion

Zero to 60, watch me Fly

In the flicker of that blinking eye

Shifting gears on own navigation system

Slipping into overdrive

Steering on

A frequent flyer phasing

Into Life, Act Three

O say can YOU see

Ho, Ho, Ho

Here comes the Big 6 Oh

And Where to go?

Lo?

**

Flashing back in the descent to

That other June, so many Junes ago

A lifetime past, in the mind of a child

Dreaming then: ‘Hey Kids What Time is it?’

on the shores of Gitchy Goomey

Howdy, Doody and Clarabelle

M-I-C-K-E-WHY

Marching with those Mouseketeers

Without fears

Maybe a few tears, now

My light always green,

zipping through

**

Marching where?

Marching everywhere

Bronx mornings became

Mississippi Moons

Became Rasta Rants in JA

Became Beirut Breakfasts

Became Vietnam sunsets

Turning into Zulu afternoons

To the tune of a generation’s anthems

Telling it like it is, being there when it wuz

Motown blasting on the box,

Rocking to a soundtrack of my own

Boogieing from streets to suites

And later through Edit Rooms of hope

And the endless ether of media dope

Addicted to possibility

Undaunted by stop signs and

warning lights and

Injunctions to

slow down,

“Danny, Slow down.”

Trust me, I reply:

Who can not be down in this time of down?

**

And, then, eyes blink again, recalling a phrase,

Been down so long it feels like up to me

As landings turn into takeoffs.

Seat belts on, tray tops in the

Upright position

Upright position

**

What now

A straight cut or another dissolve?

Can I fix it in post or post it

In the fix I am in?

I am evolving

revolving

Into times I never wanted

Into the era of final laps

Senior years, senior moments

Senior wisdom, let us pray

Inshallah, oy vey

In a time of terror

We all may be running out of time

**

From the Sixties to 60

Feeling better than I should

Doing what I could

Forward ever

Backward never

Blink on

O ship of Fate

Blink on

And on

**

Bring it on.

**

Danny Schechter

June 27 2002

PS. Thanks to all who have sent greetings. Comments welcome: dissector@mediachannel.org