He was never one for putting
things together — trains, planes
and automobiles — balsa wood
all, but there was this shop of
small, wooden model vehicles
on a side street off Michigan
Avenue up the Ave. in Rose-
land when he was an eight-
year-old and it was the thing
to put those vehicles together,
so his mother parked on an
upgrade with the tires pointed
away from the curb in case the
emergency brake didn’t hold
and the car went backward.
She was enthusiastic about
her son purchasing a kit, any
kit and he, reluctantly chose
a plane — fewer parts he
thought. They went home
and he got the balsa wood
parts out and his father hover-
ed over the kitchen table. The
boy’s mother stuck a pin in
the top of the tube of glue
and the boy, inhaling the
fumes, started to wheeze
and gag and his mother and
father finished putting to-
gether the plane. The next day,
the boy moved the wing back
and forth in the slat until it
was just right and then he
lofted it into the air. It
drifted to the ground in front
of him and landed at his feet.
He stood there staring at it.
His mother stood in the kitchen
looking out the window at him
while his father was at work.