warning--this is a very gloomy blog entry.
Well, it is definite now the PawSox are leaving Pawtucket.
WE have sort of known it was coming. Little notes in the sports pages and Patinkin's columns in PROJO speculating about what could be dome with the stadium after the DEPARTURE
But still I felt a little stunned when I saw the definite news on Friday. Anyone who reads this blog knows how much I cherish the presence of McCoy and the Paw Sox here in my native city
Today when .journal rolled out several features, they focused on some local people. I was touched to see a Palagi speaking up and I was soon recalling their ice cream trucks--bright yellow --that toured our neighborhood when I was young.
I do not really feel able to write about this event. It feels like a gigantic betrayal led by the wicked SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE and mostly ignored by the elitist Governor.
I keep on asking myself a question that I cannot answer:
WHY DO THINGS KEEP GETTING WORSE IN PAWTUCKET?
A version of this question was asked about a century ago
by the great Russian poet Anna Akhmatova
Why Is This Age Worse...?
Why is this age worse than earlier ages?
In a stupor of grief and dread
have we not fingered the foulest wounds
and left them unhealed by our hands?
In the west the falling light still glows,
and the clustered housetops glitter in the sun,
but here Death is already chalking the doors with crosses,
and calling the ravens, and the ravens are flying in.
Translated by Stanley Kunitz (with Max Hayward)
In the west the falling light still glows,
and the clustered housetops glitter in the sun,
but here Death is already chalking the doors with crosses,
and calling the ravens, and the ravens are flying in.
Translated by Stanley Kunitz (with Max Hayward)
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