old Jacks lowell

the hard, cold, oft sad red brick factory walls of the textile mills that Jack described in saturating detail remain, but what lies behind those walls is a scene that would make Te~ Jean himself smile with pride. A vibrant cloister of bars,pubs,taverns and meat Meccas.......an influx of youthful college kids from Umass Lowell brings this "Venice of America" to life. A quiet walk along the canals hearkens back to old Emil in his sidecar crossing and recrossing the Merrimack with Manuel... to the bemusement of onlookers....not much, except everything...has changed........Jacks' presence is nowhere and everywhere at the same time....perhaps Gerard still haunts these plains ...in the most gentile way a ghost can haunt.......the long shadows that come on a dying september sunday afternoon demand a remembrance of the sorrow and angst of a surf like factory worker....the Shrine of Joseph, the congregation is seated.....Saint Lucy stares from her throne....ole Lowell...one step forward , two steps back.....she truly never forgets.