REALITY: The American Illusion

Panning in, in black and white, touching tree tops as we seek out the story. At long last, there it is: a man on a bridge, about to be hung.

But remediation allows for afterthought, and this is where I went: Beside the wooden bridge and railroad trestle, along the banks there are no Union soldiers, but instead the men are raggy-clothed and skinning possum for a meal. But hyper-reality, not fiction, changed the links to empty banks.

New Haven city streets where beggars sat on blankets at the front doors of the Malley’s, Eli Moore’s and Kresge’s to catch the shoppers at their slower pace. These too, are gone.

We have created laws that disallow them their own life. We’ve built them homeless shelters to protect them from the stars and their propensity to roam and breathe their freedom. We pompously pump ourselves and pat each other on the back, for no one has been seen upon the streets unless they fiddle or can dance. They’ve been hidden from self-righteous starry eyes. And I remember, back when many had no legs and couldn’t dance, but with their dignity intact, instead sold pencils.

Did they crowd into the shelters, safely tucked into bed #29 each night? Did they ever learn to like processed chicken and fattened beef? Did they thank us for plucking them from the path across the country, and away from danger of the trains it was unsafe for them to hitch a ride?

Or do they simply die?

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New Media Moment: This was inspired by the film seen in the New Media class of the French film version of “Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge.” The film opened with this aerial view of the visuals of trees and area before coming to the drama on the bridge. (“La Rivière du hibou”, 1962, Director: Robert Enrico)