Finding Morello

Today was the great day, at last, a day of amusement and merry making. ‘At last the moment of great choice is here’, Romei was happy, excited but a little anxious too. He was hoping for a valid authentic break through this time. ‘I may find what I have longed for, so many years have gone by, for ten fairs’in vain, yet I have hopes of finding ‘her’ again’. ‘Her?’ asked Moreil and eyed Romei with a twinkle in his eyes. ‘Yes, it’s no joke man, you can never understand this aspect of my life.It is not like what you are thinking.’ ‘Believe me comrade, if only you were present then, if only you had heard the deafening sounds of those terrible blasts, the screeching of the tanks chains, the thunder of zooming aircraft, the blitz of strafing bullets, if only you had felt the severe pangs of hunger that wrenches the inner canals,twists and turns the stomach…’ ‘Oh dear, dear, peace, peace, I see I see, I feel, I feel, painful heart beating, I mean heart grieving, I mean so hurting, Oh my English is painful too.’ Moreil looked around, ‘Is’nt there a food cart nearby?’ ‘Hey you wait I will get a small pizza for you, man.’ Off went Moreil skipping and tossing his head in the air, while wrapping the dark cloak around his shoulders. He was happy go lucky one. The air of the fair is always a jovial one, makes a person merry, maybe because of all the merry-go-rounds- spinning with kid’s laughter and giggles. ‘Here comrade, have a bite and feel better’. A few quiet moments later, Romei said, ‘Shall we move on, now? I guess it’s time for the lineup and ‘The Choice of the Day’ and my memories go back to the old story, the Carters with their special styles, what a style of identity it was, I wish I had seen it with my own blue eyes, but I was deeply involved with the love of history,’. Moreil was expressing his striking thoughts continuously with a smile and a passing ‘nod of greetings’ to other folks walking the other way. “Ah the wonderful poem ‘Morello’ and he began slowly humming and singing in his sing song happy style. ‘Not of Morello cheese or of cherries’ nor of Morello gang of 107th street nor of dollar bills printed, counterfeit nor of Morello’s lost airship, at sea.’ The ‘Hiring Fair’ it was from this point onwards. The name derived from the manner of dress worn by those seeking employment. They were tufts or badges or pieces of whipcord fastened to the hats by carters. The shepherds fastened a lock of wool, even grooms would stick a piece of sponge, and others carried a pail, a broom, a mop and so on. These fairs were often held at the time of a festival and came to be associated with side shows for entertainment and amusement, but more so related with trade and business. As they neared the enclosure of the Carters, they stopped turned and looked at each other. ‘What is this, man?’ There right in front was a long line of strangely dressed people, each one had a placard hanging round from his neck. The placards read, ‘For Hire’, ‘My word, what means this?’ Moreil lost the sentence again. ‘For hire,for?’ ‘Well, well, well.’ ‘Times have changed man? No man, no, human beings are still there, way back’. ‘How do we know who knows what?’. ‘Well, well, well,’ was all Romei could say. He took a few steps then stopped again. He put his hand in the inside pocket of his jacket and took out his old wallet. Slowly he opened it and took a long look inside. He looked at the old faded photograph he had kept safely for so many years, he looked up at last then looked down again, satisfied by the view, he began to walk towards the line where three ladies were standing. He went close enough so that they could hear whatever he had to say or ask. ‘He called out a name, ‘Anna’ ‘Anna Dee?’. At first no one moved. A few moments later the lady standing in the center swerved to a side and collapsed on the ground. In a flash Romei bent and put his arm under the lady’s head, held her up, Moreil had come forward with his water flask. Soon the lady gained consciousness. ‘Romei Romei is it you?’ Romei slowly took off the placard ‘For Hire’ from the lady’s neck and threw it away. ‘Yes, it is I’, a miracle I witness a miracle I prayed for’, ‘Oh Lord, indeed you are so gracious so merciful’ Who could believe the escape, the survival and the arrival on safer grounds. nor of Joe the famous Jazz drummer nor of Tom the famous guitarist but surely of the famous Morello special personal horse of Lorenzo il Magnifico, Moreil completed his song, for he could see that Romei had found the treasure he sought. It was like a strange story of the famous racing horse, hidden from jealous eyes, moving secretly, fed cautiously ‘Morello’ who refused oats from any other hand, no heel pressure no kicks or whips, but reverence bestowed, neighed and whinnied in respectful loving return. He was of noble Barbary breed, with hardy stamina fiery temper and high speed. Magnate Lorenzo with his favorite steed would lead the pageant to the play then reciting his poem to inspire, ‘to horse, to horse for frolic and fun, dance and carol on and on, everyone, enjoy the jousts play on, all the way ’, contributed to the success of the parade. That was the story of high spirited Morello the favored mount of Magnificent Lorenzo’ but this was the story of pure faith patience courage and hope.It was a story of a strong character, of loyalty of ‘steadfastness like the tin soldier’ but above all it was story of pure and sincere love.