Summers in the Forties
Author: Bill Roberts
Georgetown was virtually our center
of the universe since Harry Hopkins,
FDR’s favorite confidante, lived
just around the corner and kept control
of the war spreading out on two fronts.
Mr. Harry, as I addressed him,
looked pretty much like any other
old guy in the neighborhood except
my two heroes, Moses and Ralphie,
both glistening black giants and
the best fishermen on the Potomac -
actually, the C&O Canal where
I’d meet them most mornings with
my tangled fishing gear and can
of worms, watch them communicate
in easy-to-understand sign language
since they were both mute, permitting
me to join their fraternity of silence
without interruption until one signaled
me to watch as he demonstrated how
to bait a hook, toss my knotted length
of line, and settle down for the long
wait until a fat carp gobbled the prize
and I hauled in dinner for the Jews
up the hill at the House of David,
where Moses and Ralphie would lug
our string of perch, eel, catfish and
most-prized carp for the bearded
brothers who licked lips at our catch.
It’s how my two black compadres
made enought to stay alive, buy a pint
of cheap booze to go with their fried
fish dinner, see them through the night.
Hot in the Forties in D.C., war begrudgingly
blazing to an anguished close in Europe,
but I hadn’t a care in the world, trusting in
Mr. Harry Hopkins. Moses and Ralphie, too,
though you might wonder how I learned
their names. Ah, another tale entirely.
(Note: Great days growing up in Washington, D.C. where two of my earliest heroes were two mute black men who spent day and night under Francis Scott Key Bridge over the Potomac River. Hard to imagine an eight-year-old white kid doing that today. Part of the growing up process where I began studying people and what made them tick – human nature, in other words.)
Tags: Fishing, Georgetown, Nostalgia, The 40's, Washington DC
