Down Radio Age’s Memory Lane of Childhood
Back when it’s nothing to scoot home alone—
a mile or two from school—I leave on the run—
to hear voices live bring to life Jules Verne’s
To the Center of the Earth—or pretend to be
Captain Nemo—in his 20,000 Leagues
Under the Sea. Nothing but imagination—no bot—
no screen—a few vacuum tubes—to illuminate
the colossal octopus strangling Nemo’s submarine –
or vessel boring—like a giant screw worm—
into planet’s core.
Some days I’m Buck Rogers—Others—Flash
Gordon dodging Ming the Merciless—rocketing
star to star—Back on earth—I run collie Lassie
and shepherd Rin-Tin-Tin, till my legs drop—King—
my huskie, never tires, as I play Sargeant Preston
of the Royal Canadian Mounties. You can almost
hear me in the street yell—“Stop—in the name
of the Queen!”—as King holds at bay one more
perp in snowy wilds.
Three o’clock in the afternoon and I turn
into sheriff Tennessee Jed, then Hopp Harrigan
piloting bombers over Germany. Back on ground,
I’m the Green Hornet, whose sting sends many
a gangster up river. Sundays see me as Nick Carter—
ace detective—followed by Lamont Cranston—
whose guise lets me know what evil lurks in hearts
of men—as I purge streets of crime—invisible—
but for my indelible shadow.
A lifetime ago—yet the characters—imbedded in
memory—enfolded in imagination—rise from the mists
as if from yesterday—I recall most how deeply I lose
myself in the spoken word—each syllable taking
on a life of its own—with each breath of my own—
Even beyond words—as I Toscanini—pencil in hand—
conduct a live rehearsal of Prokofiev’s Love of Three
Oranges—theme—poundingly militaristic—to radio’s
FBI, In Peace and War. Into which—come Thursday
nights—I again disappear.
