Tag Archives: Syracuse

Night at the Ballpark

Here I am, back to the blog. It’s been so long. I apologize for the absence, but I’ve been preoccupied with work, family, and side creative endeavors (which I will keep private to prevent jinxing the results). And now summer has ended, and a new semester is unfolding on the campus of Syracuse University.

NBT Bank Stadium. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

I have one note worth sharing. My family and I attended a Syracuse Mets game for the first time this August. My father used to take me to Syracuse Chiefs games at the old MacArthur Stadium, and I was impressed with the confines of NBT Bank Stadium, the ease of parking, the friendliness of the stadium workers, and the blue and orange color scheme in keeping with the New York Mets affiliation.

Mr. Met image on a stairwell at NBT Bank Stadium. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

My wife Pam and I debated taking our autistic son Colin to the ballpark, but in the end, we decided exposing him to the experience of a live baseball game on a perfect summer night was worth the risk of potential outbursts. We feel it’s worth trying new things with him, even though we endure stress, frustration, and humiliation when he acts out. Our hope is he grows more comfortable in public settings.

Colin sitting in the stands on the first-base line. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

And on this night, he fared well. He ate French fries, popcorn, and mini brownie muffins (brought from home). He paid no attention to the action on the field, and when the crowd roared, he unleashed high-pitch screams, drawing the attention of other fans. We left in about the fourth inning with the Buffalo Bisons leading the Mets by several runs. But we considered the evening a minor victory and felt encouraged to attend another game in the future.

Pam and Colin outside NBT Bank Stadium. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

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Public Art in Progress

While walking to work today, I saw Los Angeles-based artist Jonas Never working on his basketball-themed mural in downtown Syracuse.

Basketball mural in progress. Photo by Francis DiClemente. Art by Jonas Never.

I think the piece will be great when it’s complete. However, seeing all that beautiful white space made me wish for a combo mural—half basketball and half Warhol screen print or Pollock splatter painting.

Mural in progress. Photo by Francis DiClemente. Art by Jonas Never.

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Urban Location Inspiration

While out walking, I passed this alley, and it sparked my imagination for an entry into a screenplay scene. This won’t go anywhere, but it’s fun to play along.

Alley in downtown Syracuse. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

EXT. ALLEY – DAY

TOM COLLINS, a man in his forties, exits a building, opens the top of a garbage bin and tosses something inside. He closes the lid and sprints down the alley. Moments later, an explosion rocks the area and pieces of the green plastic bin scatter. ANGLE ON Tom’s face as he reaches the end of the alley. He looks back and three SECURITY GUARDS are in pursuit. One bearded guard cuffs his hands over his mouth.

SECURITY GUARD
You’ll never get away with this Collins. The human extension formula belongs to Dr. Reddick.

ANGLE ON Tom as he continues running.

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Office Chair at the Curb

Instagram Poem #10

Office Chair at the Curb. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

Office Chair at the Curb

An office chair
transplanted
to the curb.
I hope the worker
who occupied
the seat
was not
terminated.

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Pay Phone on the Ground

Instagram Poem #6

Pay Phone on the Ground. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

Pay Phone on the Ground

A metal pay phone
splayed on the ground
near my apartment
building dumpster,
a relic from the
pre-digital age—
anthropological
evidence of
20th-century
American life.
Model discontinued
and no iOS update
to install.

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Sunday Morning Poem

Instagram Poem #4

Slippers found near a park bench in downtown Syracuse. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

Mystery Slippers

Sunday morning:
a pair of white slippers
left near a park bench
in downtown Syracuse.

Questions abound:
Who owns the shoes
and where did the person
sleep last night?

No answers to be found,
so instead cue Johnny Cash’s
big, beautiful voice singing
“Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down.”

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Morning Snowfall

I looked out my window this morning and saw snow falling, with big flakes covering the windshields of the cars in my apartment building parking lot. It reminded me that snowfall is typical in late March in Syracuse, New York. Here, the official start of spring doesn’t mean the end of winter weather.

Of course everything is different now with coronavirus, but the normalcy of seeing snow falling comforted me. It reminded me that nature goes on, that life goes on. And the silence of the falling snow made me feel safe and secure, even as I remained trapped inside.

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A Poem for the Start of Spring

Early spring has always been my favorite time of the year, as we put winter behind us here in Central New York. Of course coronavirus means nothing is normal this spring.

However, I am editing a new poetry collection that contains a spring-themed poem that lifted my spirits because it reminded me of happier times. I thought I would share it as we all hope for a return to normalcy.

Best Time of the Year

Snow finally
giving way
to grass
in Syracuse.

Cold mornings,
but temps
climbing
above forty.

March Madness,
Lenten fish fries
and the crack
of the bat.

Yippee …
it looks like
we’ve survived
another winter.

But never forget—
in Syracuse
a lake-effect blast
can still chase away
the Easter Bunny
and send the Moms
scurrying to their closets
to retrieve sweaters
on Mother’s Day.

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A Poem for the Season

Autumn Acknowledgement

On this glorious autumn day—
with bright sunshine, blue skies
and refulgent orange, red and golden leaves
shimmering on the trees—
I am not thinking about
freezing temperatures and lake effect snow.
I know winter will eventually come.
I know we cannot stave off
the inevitable despair that accompanies
the turn of the seasons.

But winter is not here yet.
So I will enjoy this fall weather
while I still have the chance—
while the green grass remains uncovered
and while the warm sunshine lasts,
at least for another day.

©2019 Francis DiClemente

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Sidewalk Cutoff

While walking home along East Genesee Street in Syracuse, I encounter a man seated a bus stop located between Phoebe’s restaurant and South Crouse Avenue.

He has long, curly black hair, bronze skin and he’s dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, with a roll of flesh hanging over his waist.

He spots me as I stride toward him on the sidewalk, then flicks his fingers in a “come hither” motion. “Hey buddy, come here, can I ask you a question?”

I cut him off right away. “I don’t have any money,” I say and keep walking.

And I hear him say, the words trailing behind me, “How’d ya know what I was gonna ask you?”

And as I continue walking, I realize he’s right. I feel guilty about not giving him the chance to ask his question. In my defense, he caught me off guard and spooked me with the quick motion of his hands. But I could have stopped, stood at a distance from him and listened to what he had to say.

 

 

 

 

 

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