Skip to main content

RUDIMENTS 905.


RUDIMENTS, pt. 905
('Les Bicyclettes De Belsize')
Up in Pennsylvania, there
wasn't much use for a
bicycle. The dirt roads
were nasty and rutted,
mostly went nowhere
anyway, and they all
ended up on the sort of
tree'd and pleasant land
that bicycles never seemed
part of. I often used to wonder
about kids and bicycles, as
Christmas gifts and all that.
I'd imagine that cut them
right out of that picture; nor did
I ever see a bicycle store up
there. I guess you can't sell
what people aren't buying.
It always confused me, that
idea of bicycles and the country.
In the way that you always see
old-time America personified
through genteel sorts of folk on
bicycles, I figured it only worked
for those old-timey villages with
a town square and streets and
paved walks and all that. Doctors'
and preachers' offices, the jail
and the undertaker (Were those
two ever in competition, I wonder,
or did they always work together,
the hangman having an alliance
with the undertaker?). Banks at
the corner - and all this even
before gas stations and the corner
sweet shops. Teens in puppy love
swaddling each other in ice cream
malteds. The most innocent
curdlings of sex in the world.
In reality, if you go back just
a little deeper into old time,
there really wasn't any need
for the 'bicycle' at all, in the
really, intended and actual rural
world of America. It took a certain
form of necessary infrastructure
first. I can remember my father
going on to me, as we were driving
along and entered Washington, NJ,
up by Clinton, etc. He said to me,
a complete surprise at the time,
that he remembered coming there
often, as a teen, working for some
company as a helper on a truck
that delivered bundles of newspapers.
One of the stops was Washington,
NJ, a very rural town, and he said
what he remembered most about it
was that it had wooden sidewalks.
That was cool to me; Washington
being, from Bayonne, probably 60
miles at least (guessing) and my
father, born in 1924, being say 14,
at the time of that day-work, would
have it be, say, 1937 or '38. It
was a glittering image to me, all
that - old and rural and isolated,
small time America just then
breaking out into its other pattern.
Wooden sidewalks? I imagined
planks and boardwalks, like in
an old western film, with probably
horse-tie-up posts and fences still
lining the street. Every so often
my father piped up with some
grand tales.
-
So, the picture painted of old time
America, how true was all that?
The Magnificent Ambersons? The
Chicago of Theodore Drieser?
Where to begin - chemists and
pharmacies, with those colorful
globes in the windows, each
filled with....something? Pills.
Elixirs? Circus freak alcohol?
Railroad cars (have you BEEN
on a rail car lately? It's a horrid
circus of the ignorant with the
non-stop looters of the language
of losers, food smells, and pigs,
What was once pleasant has
become the most uncomfortable
form of simple travel ever).
Was this country crazy right
from day one? I was fairly certain
that the entire country was nuts,
without a doubt. It still goes on
to this day, and I just scratch my
head trying to balance all of what
I've seen and learned against the
very rank stupidity of the people
now running things; just outside
my hedges, for goodness sake.
When one person is crazy, that
person is called crazy. When his
slate of dogs on council and on
school boards are crazy, MAYBE
they're called crazy as a group.
BUT, when that craziness takes
over, and everyone else acquiesces,
such craziness becomes the norm
and is accepted and the 'others' (like
me) get called crazy instead. Been
there, done that. Tyrants come in
soft clothing, often wearing the
gentle pajamas of sentiment and
treacle - and idiot people just
accept it all. I've never seen a
more dastardly, useless bunch.
-
Let's hear it for cops (and firemen)
in schools! Much like vaccines today,
when organized schooling was first
undertaken in the US, all those
systems of mandatory taking of
people's kids and the rest of it, met
with great opposition. Strong and
vile opposition - those not wishing
for the State to take their children,
those opposed to a coercive and
systemized education, the streamlining
of thought into decided-upon and
accepted ends an conclusions. It
all went down hard. Compulsory
education, the Blair Education Bill,
they were as adamantly fought
over and discussed as is today
NAFTA or Brexit. There were,
in those pleasing, back-then,
farm days, specific types of kids,
'never sent to school or church.'
Society fought against all that,
and society won, that black strap
of rigor, falsity, and regimentation
won out. You have to figure the
difference between worlds: that
one and the one we LIVE now, or
have been forced to live. Childhood
itself differed vastly; forget bicycles.
One in six children didn't live to
the age of five. One in six labored,
at work, long, dirty hours, each day.
In NYC, what were called 'trundle-bed
trash' - the destitute and immigrant
poor, many of them didn't know
their own birthdays. Preteens, all
around, were already experienced
smokers, swearers, gamblers, and
what teachers there were felt obliged
to wear firearms in order to maintain
'order.' By the late 1870's, in the
cities, New York, Boston, Philadelphia
and elsewhere, the idea that kids
shared, or could share, a common
culture was in ascendance. It began
to be accepted that children were
'expected' to go to school, play in
their free time, get toys, and do
better than their parents. Slowly
the changed ideas filtered through.
Public playgrounds began to be
built; a 'child study' movement
began. People began regarding
public schooling as the essential
revolution in the life of children.
Schools, and schooling, began
changing as it became mandatory
to attend; desks were bolted into
place, and often there were parceled
out out 30 or 40 per a room. The
better towns would spend 30 or so
dollars per pupil, annually, and
insist on college degrees for the
teachers. Regimented institutions
began making children stand to
give answers, wave their hands
for orderly calling out, answer
question with proper one or two
word answers, or proper sentences,
and the idea of what was called
'adolescence' - some middle ground
between childhood and adulthood -
took hold, in books and programs.
(1904, Clark University's G. Stanley
Hall published 'Adolescence,' and
today's idea of the 'teenager' took
hold). There's lots more, but I
won't go on but to say that the
decades after the Civil War
saw the vast societal changes
take hold and enter the era of
the 'sweet,' what we now know
of as that age, when we think
of the bicycle and the 'surrey
with the fringe on top.' By 1890,
27 states had imposed mandatory
schooling laws - for 'control'
more than anything, though it
most often couched in terms
of 'enlightened' efforts to
school and mend.
-
That's what we've gotten to today, or
the offshoots of it anyway. Schools
with locked doors, passway alarms,
controlled entry, police cars posted
outside. I see it daily, all around me.
There's a frilly councilman in this
town who said to me, in his guise
as 'Fire Official' with a siren car
and marked cruiser, that there's
'no better sound in the world' for
him than to enter a school (school 5)
and hear children yell out, 'Fireman
Cory!' Regimentation sits in the
same seat-row as order, coercion,
and supposed learning. I think
that's about all schools teach
kids today anyway.
-
On the corner of east 11th, when
I was living there, the noises from a
large schoolyard (city-style anyway)
were always resounding. The Avenue
was right there, it was a busy, local
corner. The kids were always active
and frantic.The gates were always
open, the pace was playful and
anarchic. Life was still in that
over-flow period before things
became truly psychotic. I enjoyed
it all, in my passing, 1967 - when
the hammer was set, but hadn't quite
yet slammed down. You could still
find a smidgen of good sense.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

RUDIMENTS 1164.

RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,164 (I'm out of time) Dear Milllicent - I took your car from the driveway in New Orleans, but never brought it home. Some black folks up in Portland took it from me, saying it was rightfully theirs. I couldn't fight back, as they burned the 7-11. I'd driven up to Oregon to see what I could see about all this that was going on. Maybe write about it, or just observe for later. Nothing made sense, and I took a Greyhound down to Tempe, Arizona a few days later. I got there OK, well, really 'here,' since I haven't yet left. It's quieter here, but boring as Hell. All you may hear about Arizona; think sleeping buros and inactive Central Americans. - Up in Portland, the entire range of rage was different, and it seemed to be always changing. No one knew what any of it was about, but to them it didn't matter anyway. The strife and the theater of display was all that mattered. I

RUDIMENTS 1163.

RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,163 (generalizations, mostly erroneous, we have) There's no legal maneuver for keeping a sound body and mind, and I truly think most people have already lost it by about age 15. Maybe before. Once a person seriously begins to accept the foul assumptions of society, and then directs efforts towards only ITS version of success and accomplishment, you've either already lost your mind to it or are well on your way to the adoption of their ways of both assuming and thinking. The unreal world is somehow bolstered enough by fantasy realms to, by silent force, become everyone's 'real ' world - no one ever knowing it's all bogus. There's little more annoying than seeing some 15-year old snot-nosed kid put on a shirt and tie and begin acting 'grown-up' and writing some Elks propaganda essay about like 'What America Means To Me.' Real dumb craphead stuff. I was always remind

RUDIMENTS 1162.

RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,162 ('head down...don't look up') Well. Here I am, seemingly now relegated to a back-bench burner. My dog is dead. I'm in the process of a long, tedious uproot; boxes and carting. My mind and spirit tells me I can get through this, nicely, with compunction, and with a positive, creative field of endeavor. I work for light like that. - Pulling - no, tugging - from the other direction is all the local eastcoast, NJ, semi-ghetto way of living that I have to jam against. It's a startling fact, realizing that upon returning here each time, after 4 or 5 days away, this place appears decrepit, beleaguered, under assault, poor, morose, and wasted - with little quality anywhere. I trace my eyes, while driving, internally, as they leave the hills and mountains, the solitary singleness of the small roads, the twists and turns, all between gravel and dirt, rut and redstone. It's a different wo