All I knew
that hot summer
day in 1942
under the shade
of the old elm tree
was that
there on the sidewalk
my top was
spinning
finally I had learned
to spin a top
The flies were having
a field day sitting
on top of
my big twelve ounce
forgotten
NEHI grape soda
the one filled
with Tom's
peanuts
and leaning against the
elm tree...a nice large
peanut had
somehow fallen to
the ground
and a big fly with tinted
green wings was
sitting on it--the
peanut--and warning
off all other flies
A B-17 was droning around
the edge of town, mostly
unnoticed by my me
in my top euphoria
My numerous beat-up tops
were lying askew in
every direction, mixed
in among the elm roots
many of them now
reduced to mere
blobs of wood
unrecognizable
they had paid the price---
victims of my
ineptitude
for you see, a top hurled at
the cement incorrectly
will land on its top
will not spin and
will soon be
beaten up
there was a lesson here if
only an eight year old
had perceived it
the lesson: there is a correct
technique involved with
almost every activity of life
throwing kicking running,
piano violin drums
sewing cooking
acting speaking
singing
with spinning tops the secret is
in the angle of the throw
all I could think of that warm
sunny day in Clovis
over there on Reid Street
in the summer of 1942 was
let the word go forth into all
the world
eight year old Mil
has learned to
spin tops
*********30********
BY MIL
02/04/14
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