'You Now See Me As Useless?'

  • Published in Letters


You now see me as useless? I once was more useful than the landholders of my presence now-

You took no time to save me? A few do now, and gallantly-
Lies, broken promises and handshakes with sweaty palms that slip away-
That's how you "agreed," verbally, to save me?


I stand majestically firm of old wood and a granite base still viable-
I was here before you — my pristine cast iron white fountain now gone-
I watched the railroad pass in its' infancy-

I saw the steam rise from steamships in the Bay and felt the rumble of the Iron Horse pass by-
I was part of the mariner and railroad heritage, for freight and for passengers, and so was my builder, Samuel Clark-


He spins in his grave watching me rot, leak and falling in disrepair — callous disregard and disrespect for an architectural wonder-

What does it take to foster tradition and history if gone...gone forever, which " is forever" — a sepia photo left behind in books?-


City Hall rhetoric and indecision once again abates the pleas by serious protectors of my body and soul-

Excuses rampant, apathetic dribble of money needed and unworthiness of my skeleton — the direct result of planned disregard or for nostalgia-


Those who stand with signs of protest, wrap your arms around my porch supports — chain yourself, steadfast- Don't let them!
Lies, broken promises and slimy handshakes with heads turned backwards that were smiling in deception, still come to mind-


I have been a homestead, with laughter, fireplaces raging at Christmas and Thanksgiving, a dress shop for the ladies of the city, a place where food was served and a place where homes could be purchased — thriving businesses that occupied my residence and my barn surrounded by a constant "visual" of my beauty-
My stables succumbed to fire in 1991 — now they want "me" gone too?


In 1870, I was once regal with land and waterfront-

I was, and remain "your heritage"-

I "am your history", surrounded now by materialistic, tacky, and gaudy, profit-oriented liars of the spoken word-

"I am still 'your history' — Hear me out!"
You did not act in good faith! — you shook hands with crossed fingers-


Now you block the sun in my windows, lock my doors to once weary travelers and friends...friends... that for decades wished to save me-
No rocker is stable on my doorstep — it leans and slides forward, beckoning for a savior-
The rain and snow pounds my roof — and often enters where it should not...in the wind — uninvitingly so, following beams and walls — enhancing my slow demise by rot and mold-

Shame on you...for the history that will be lost-

Light my fireplaces once more for Christmas... before the giant metal machines of destruction remove my chimneys and my soul forever-

"Lies, broken promises and slimy handshakes with heads turned backwards"-

I am the Clark-Hathaway House; and you control my fate!-

J.P. Polidoro November 19, 2013