Across
Narragansett Bay and into the Trees
by Edmund Conti
In the beginning God
created Pawtucket, Rhode Island but He did not
create Rhode Island. And God saw that it
was good. And the people of Pawtucket said, It is
good, yes, Pawtucket. And God said, It is not
that good, Pawtucket, with or without Rhode
Island. And the people were afraid. And God
was afraid also. He was afraid He would
have bad news for Pawtucket.
In the summer of that year
which the people of Pawtucket in their ignorance
called Year 1, it was quiet. It was quiet in the
village for that is what the people of Pawtucket
called it. We should call it “Our Town,”
said Pablo, but the people laughed and drank more
wine. The wine was red and it was good. We should
have white wine, also, said Pablo, a nice
Chardonnay perhaps. And the people laughed some
more and drank more red wine. But they wondered
about the white wine, if it would go good with
chicken.
God was troubled. He knew
the people of Pawtucket could not live by bread
alone. But he knew if He gave them butter then
someone would want margarine. And then somebody
else would want to celebrate Kwanzaa. God
knew he would have to re-think Pawtucket.
There was fear in the
village. There was fear in the town. There
was fear in Pawtucket and there was
dissatisfaction also. We never get any Broadway
shows, the people complained. The wine began to
taste bitter and sour. There was no more dancing
in the streets, especially when the bulls were
running.
God knew that man could not
be happy merely with cheap red wind. Nor
could the people of Pawtucket who were now
complaining that Year 1 was not a good vintage
year. I will have to start over, He thought.
And the world which was the village of Pawtucket
trembled at the thought. God penciled in the week
of the eleventh with the note, CREATE UNIVERSE.
And give man enough sense to create a Broadway
show. I would like to see one also, He thought.
And Pawtucket trembled.
And then there was no
Pawtucket. Nor was there any good place to
eat afterward. Years later there would be a Harry’s
Bar where the pasta would be served al dente and
Al Dente would be served pasta because he
deserved good pasta and Mrs. Dente would have the
chicken.
God re-created the universe.
It is my re-creation, He said and He laughed.
It was snowing hard outside but that was in
Pawtucket.
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