addendum to “the accordion lesson”

we began the trudging climb down from the 3rd floor:

seven mothers, seven kids, eight 20 pound accordions, cousin Paul,

and me, the lone non-participant of the great accordion wars.

the 4 story red brick building also housed occasional meetings

of the I.L.G.W.U. (the international ladies garment workers union)

on the first floor, of which my mother was a card-carrying member

who paid her dues and went to work.

"balers" among the “frame-spinners”, "inner-hatband stitchers"

among the “slubber-doffes", and my mother, disciplinarian among

the kids inside the walls of the frantic, Italian-filled apartment.

“put those things in the hamper”!

“go wash those hands”!

“go get your father some Luckies”!

–– but on the long way down from the suffering echoes of accordion death cries,

all were equal in the eyes of God, and when the ground floor doors flung open

to the light of day on Second Street directly across from the subterranean

"Roma Café".. I say unto you!–– the sea parted.