New York City, it’s so nice and peaceful. Don’t get me wrong. That won’t last. In a couple of hours, it will be packed with people. Not only with people that live and work in New York, but with plenty of tourists. But right now… it’s nice and quiet. Have you ever seen the movie Breakfast at Tiffany’s? It was Truman Capote’s best story. The beginning of that movie is the way it looks and feels right now. And I love this time of day, very early morning… It’s like the calm before the storm.
I’m a writer. I’ve always been one. I got off to a rocky start. I was born and raised in a small town… Wilkes-Barre Pa. My parents and neighbors were all working class people.
And to dream of being a writer in that type of an environment is foolish. I was constantly reminded to be more practical. Very few people become successful writers and can make a living out of it. And the ones that do… are connected people. They’re not from Wilkes-Barre, Pa.
I started working at the age of sixteen. The job was mind numbing. Aren’t most jobs like that? My family needed money. By the time I was twenty I was married, and a year later my son was born. But I always felt like something was missing. I felt like a Big Mac with only one beef patty. And everyone knows that there are two beef patties in a Big Mac.
I dreamed of being a writer. I dreamed of living in New York. I wanted to paint beautiful landscapes with words.
In a way, Breakfast at Tiffany’s inspired me. The guy in the movie was also a writer, living in New York, and he wasn’t doing that well. I could empathize with that. But what I really loved was Johnny Mercer and Henry Mancini’s song, Moon River. Have you ever listened to the lyrics? “Moon River, wider than a mile I’m crossing you in style someday.” I knew that one day, that would be me. That I too, would be crossing in style one day. It was just around the bend.
I dreamed of being a writer. I dreamed of living in New York. But as one year collided into another, the dream became more distant… and distant. Was it fading away, or was I fading away?
I knew I would be better off in the Big Apple. I would live in Greenwich Village or the Upper West Side and be around other writers like me. But I was afraid. I had built a nice nest for myself – trap – and was too comfortable.
My marriage lasted for ten years. And it turned out that my wife was as unhappy as I was. We separated and eventually got divorced. She wound up marrying again and moved to California. Unfortunately, I wound up losing contact with my son. It happens. Shit always happens. If there is anything that is consistent in life… it’s that shit always happens. Shit always happens. And eventually these shitty slaps are disguised as bearable memories. That’s how we fool ourselves. That’s how our mind protects us from reality. As time goes on, we pretend that the stormy weather wasn’t that bad. We make them into pleasant, comfortable memories. We throw out the dirty bathtub water and are left with the more tolerable bathtub ring. But I continued to write. I knew that I would one day make it. It was just around the bend.
And I did make it. It took me almost fifteen years. I went from working class people in Wilkes-Barre Pa. to N.Y. and I am now surrounded by some of the wealthiest people in the world. I made it. Don’t ever give up on your dreams. I’m now lying down in the lap of luxury.
I love walking around New York. It’s great for a writer. As a writer you should never let the fire lose its flame. New York is so inspirational, and that inspiration fans your creativity. There are so many things to see and do. And I love watching people. And while I’m walking and watching people, I get inspired and start writing. Sometimes, I’ll even press my nose against a restaurant’s window and look inside. I have even, and you’re not going to believe this… walked from the South Street Seaport in lower Manhattan to Harlem.
I also love hanging out in parks – especially Central Park – and watching the kids play. They’re so happy and full of life. You have to realize that God also likes to see kids play and enjoy life. That’s why He made us like that.
I don’t know how far I’m going to walk today. My foot has been bothering me and it’s itching and slightly swollen. I had the same problem last year.
“How are you, Mr. Salkin?”
That’s me! I’m Harold Salkin. Everyone knows me in this neighborhood… 64th street, and second avenue. They’ve all read my writings, and the teens in the area call me The Writer. They’re always joking around with me.
Writing is a very strange business. There are times when I’ll jot down a note or two, and no more. And then there are times when I am so inspired, that the writing bursts forth, like water from a shower. It’s amazing.
Last week, a woman that I know who works at a grocery store, came up to me and said, “That comment you wrote about life was beautiful.” I turned all shades of red. There is no better praise, no better admiration, than when someone likes what you wrote. My muse and I love the attention. All I wrote was, “The desperation in my Soul is much deeper and more meaningful than the despair in my life. Live life, nourishing and taking care of your Soul first.”
After she paid me that compliment I was blooming for days. I was so happy. And I started thinking about my own Soul, and my own journey and the journey of others. Our Souls are an everlasting perfume, a fragrant aroma that rises to the gates of Heaven and Beyond. Very few of us grasp its real Value.
I feel tired. And my foot hurts. That looks like a nice bench over there and it’s in the shade, and I’ll have pigeons for company. I like pigeons. They’re like me. They spend most of their time and life pecking around and looking for food to eat.
I’m tired. The bench that I slept on last night wasn’t that comfortable and my foot was hurting me. I think I’ll take a nap. But before I do, let me take out my chalk and write something inspirational: “Your dreams are around the bend,” by Harold Salkin, The Writer.
Photo by Yunsik Noh via Unsplash
Fictional stories by John Saccone 
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