Forgive Me Jack. Love, Pop

Abstract

He arrived at the meeting place early and waited for his son. It was fall. A lovely day was on its way yet the sun was not up at 7:00 in the morning. The colors of the leaves would appear soon, brilliant against a vivid blue sky. Few cars drove down Fifth Avenue and the noise of the occasional bus didn’t quite blot out the roaring of the lions in the zoo. The amalgam of sights and sounds and smells were not what most people identified with the Big Apple but they were quintessential New York. African and metropolitan sounds mingled with New England foliage, here at the edge of Central Park, as they did nowhere else in the world. Rush hour brought street vendors selling breakfast foods. Odors from exotic places tantalized the nose, saliva filled the mouth and sensations of “empty” assailed the stomach. Dog spoor stench cut across pleasing aromas. None of it entered John’s heightened awareness of the space around him. He was waiting for his son.