I remember the day (a poem in process)

by John Sullivan

John read a poem he was in the process of creating on one of our TGS Zoom reunion calls. We’ve included his brief introductory comments, followed by the poem (with a few asides) about his growing up years in the Jefferson Park Housing Project in Cambridge, which was where a number of TGS students lived.

John: Ok. So just to preface it a bit. It's this: this version of it is a bit somber, basically it's cathartic, and it's been healing for me to get some of the emotions that have embedded in my childhood out. So this is sort of like the writing that's the more serious version of it. So don't worry all of my life is not this miserable. I swear. Okay, so I'll read some of it. and i'm going to go Stanislavsky method acting full on Cantabridgian accent if I can still find it in me.

I remember the day that we first moved in.

I remember the smell the feel and the din.

The rental truck, as my dad hit the brake.  

Me taking it in. What of this do I make?

I was no more than 2, a child steeped in wonder.

Little did I know. It would all tear asunder. 

The hope, the passion, promise, spark

Would soon all be snuffed out by Jefferson Park.

Jefferson Park, Jefferson Park.

It was tough in the daylight and misery in the dark

1,500 souls, all aboard for the ride, 

Functional from the outside, but gutted inside.

The first time Dad hit me I was a mere baby of 4.

He slammed my head off the back bedroom door.

He had come home drunk after working all day.

He was angry at the world, but it was I who would pay.

He worked as a rigger for the old Navy yard. 

He had grown up despondent, beaten, and hard.

His father had been murdered,

His job it was cast. 

To identify the body. It was a terrible task.

From that day forward he was lost, so they say. 

And he looked on with dark eyes, and drank all his pay.

Jefferson Park, Jefferson Park. 

It was tough in the daylight and misery in the dark.

If you went in with your heart

And your conscience intact.

You’d soon be compromised. And divested of that.

Mom was a simple woman, one riddled with sorrow.

She only saw in hours, and never tomorrow.

She tried her best to keep us protected.

But soon she gave up, and our lot was neglected.

She married this man with the dark, glowing eyes.

And she loved him deeply, but, much to her surprise.

He could not be saved. He could not be altered.

So he took her down with him 

Together they faltered

Into drink into chaos, and through anything goes. 

And to keep it indoors, so that nothing will show

Jefferson Park. Jefferson Park 

When you hit with your hatred. You sure left your mark

Slowly you wore, and you did beat me down 

Quickly my smiles devolved into frowns 

As the years passed along and the traumas were noted.

All semblance of family was chipped and eroded. 

We carried on bravely in the face of despair 

in a filthy small house filled with sorrow and fear.

Soon I grew up, and what did I see? 

(I'm sorry this is actually depressing me). The fears of a child replaced by a broken puberty. 

John: I just realized I should have probably read you the ending first where I survived. But that's what I have so far in this version.