11-06-2022 4:04am

"You Can't Get There From Here," ... A Poem By Philip Repko*

Lesley Misko Editor

"You Can't Get There From Here" is a daydream at heart, wishing there was a way to share with grandchildren who aren't yet old enough to understand what life in New Hanover Township and the surrounding area was like "back in the day." -- Philip Repko

I
You Can’t Get There From Here…

Precise coordinates do not exist in space.

The place I seek is sensitive to Time.

And non-compliant with geography.

I want to have you see what’s in my mind.

I’d love to see my great grandchild[ren] crouch

Behind the plate or at the midfield X -

I will be giddy with whomever’s slouch.

I won’t make issue with the sport or sex.

III

No map can guide me past the yellow barn

That used to stand atop the gentle ridge.

Which lent perspective high upon the roof

To see the valley floor at Moyer’s bridge.

The gate that held the cows within the field

Due north of Swamp Pike, nearest Wagner Road,

Has not been swinging open - fifty years

Since traffic volume threatened to explode.

How can I craft a route to take them where

They understand the rural, simple way

Their grandpop wandered through the verdant fields

Of Fagleysville, a town that fades away

Because the hamlet lacked protective sense

To see the danger lurking in the trees,

Where time will snatch the villages away

And change their names to ones we never say.

VII

I’ll say to the eldest, Laine, “Here make a left

Where Wagner Road and Fagleysville shake hands.

You’ll see the fieldstone wall that marked the gate

To enter down the lane to Elliot’s lands.

VIII

The dairy farm’s a golf course – if you squint

The fairways might betray their secret past

By letting memory conjure up a glimpse

Of grazing heifers ambling through the grass.

Can I say to Olivia, “You know,

We used to sometimes run a campground raid

At Laughing Waters – many years ago,

And borrow boats to coast upon the lake.

The camp is hiding nowadays in growth

Which shields the fence near by the cul-de-sac,

Where we would ditch our bikes behind the brush,

In case the grown-ups launched a sneak attack.

Can I tell Wesley how to navigate

To Great-Great Grammy’s bar on Charlotte Street?

The National Bank of Boyertown is right

Where you turn left – the site of Aston’s Treat:

A soft-cone custard ice cream stand when I

Was just a little shaver. Then stay straight

Until the road runs past the Farmer’s Mart,

On High Street right in town. You’ll see a gate

XII

Where once there was a set of local shops.

The grandkids will be lost in my old haunts.

The towns surrendered all their innocence

As we did mindlessly on country jaunts.

XIII

For Ivory, might I make a map that lands

Her near the Mighty Atom truck at Zern’s.

Across the street from Auction City. There’s

A Car Wash near the place, before it burned.

XIV

Will anyone be able to embrace

The sense of long ago that marks the trek

That I and Aunts and Uncles got to trace,

Or understand the innocent effect

That Clementine could grasp if she knew how

Or where to launch the mystery ships and steer

A course that brings the past to here and now –

Alas! You simply can’t get there from here.

[*A 1979 graduate of Boyertown Area Senior High, Philip Repko returned to BASH to teach English for many years. In 2007, he left to become an assistant principal in the Daniel Boone School District. He is currently the principal of Saint Mary Catholic School in Schwenksville.]