Thematic Photographic 68: Temporary

[click to enlarge]
{images by O'Dasor De, LAM}

prompted by
 Thematic Photographic images at the Written Inc Site!

*{note: as we prepared this posting, we checked back to the Written, Inc. blog
and read todays post where Carmi announces that his Dad passed away last

night. our heartfelt sympathy goes out to him and his family.}*   :-(

Thematic Photographic 68: Temporary

we had the chance to visit Coney Island last weekend. we had our Mom with us and she was having a grand ole time enjoying the sparsely peopled beach when her incontinence kicked in.

we rushed up to the boardwalk and ran into a bar (the legendary Rudy's) to use the restroom.

waiting for Mom as she did her thing, we grabbed a brew and a barstool.

at Rudy's the walls are completely covered with pictures of old Coney Island, both the glory days as America's Playground, and the blighted 1970's landscape of THE WARRIORS fame.

"warriors, come out and play-yay . . ."

{never mind}

mixed in with these images are photos of customers and barkeeps thoughout decades of summers and Polar Bear winters. very nostalgic, especially when we realize that we recognize so many of the faces.

anyhoo, suddenly we felt such a wash-over of warmth as we flashed back to  a day when we were about five years old, and we sat high up on a bar-stool next to our Dad at this very same bar.

our feet couldn't reach the floor which we remember as covered in sawdust.

and behind the bar is a face that is in so many of the pictures on today's wall. the face of the Old Man - "Mr. Rudy's" himself who tended bar forever until a couple of years ago when he passed on.

at the corner of the bar stand the "regulars" buff and tan, perpetual beach drinkers,

and on the stool next to us is our Dad laughing and story-telling about how we won the race on the Steeplechase ponies . . . .

the flashback lasts a couple of seconds then  . . .

then  Mom returns from the restroom,

and the old man is gone, and the bar is full of yuppies, and hipsters and tourists,

 and the sawdust is gone, and the pictures are yellowed

 and my Dad is gone and Steeplechse is gone and no one jumps to their death on the parachute ride anymore,

 and the CYCLONE needs paint,
 the WONDER WHEEL is still,

 and condos are going up and its time to go home . . .

wherever that is.


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