Were connected by the Henry Hudson Bridge.
Sixty-years after that, on the
eleventh day of October–
I crossed that bridge.
Less than ninety hours later,
having traversed twelve states
and three thousand miles,
I arrived home in
My distinct memory of crossing that bridge was an exclamation:
I take the Henry to the George
The bridge spanning the Spuyten Duyvil Creek segued into the
Henry Hudson Parkway in Harlem and down the road apiece–
crossing a much wider body of water–
was the George Washington Bridge,
It was the inkwell hour
of 5AM and this image
of the George is
exactly what I saw
from the Henry.
Unfortunately, I did not take that picture.
I was too busy driving at that hour
to take any photographs.
I was too busy Sputening my Duyvil
despite having no idea what that means.
Anyway, one month after returning to Long Beach,
I received a letter from the Henry Hudson
I had neglected to pay a $5.50 toll and there was
a $5 late fee to be added to that amount.
Honestly, I did not do so intentionally.
I had been too excited about taking
the Henry to the George to notice
the toll booth.
Maybe Spuyten Duyvil means
Spitting on the Devil.
The week before Christmas, I called the number
on the citation and something wonderful happened.
Wonderful is not a word often associated with
having to pay a traffic citation but I was told
that the late fee did not apply.
In other words, I was given–approximately–
a 50% discount on a bill I had to pay.
I wished the lady on the phone
a Merry Christmas and she did
the same to me.
What I wish for today is that
I were back in the arms
of the woman for whom
I drove to New York
If only she could Spuyten her Duyvil
and walk through my door...