My wife and I went to see the play Nick in Time - Nick in Time, which was performed this past Sunday at the Waterfront South Theater in Camden, NJ. The one act play was put on, by the South Camden Theater Company, in honor, and in memory of, Nick Virgilio, a world renown Haiku poet who was born and raised in Camden. In the play, Nick is portrayed in his last year of life, 60 years old and is waiting to go on a tv show to discuss his poetry. Before he goes on, he has several encounters in the dressing room with the ghost of Walt Whitman, (who later in his life lived in Camden for 11 years until his death.) where, in one conversation, they both commiserate over the loss of a younger brother. In Nicks case, his youngest brother, Larry, was killed in Viet Nam on July 24, 1967. In Walt Whitmans case, his brother was lost during the Civil War around 1863. Nicks brother Larry is cleverly portrayed as a tv production assistant, first, who befriends Nick before he goes on air and then as a ghostly marine corp lieutenant who shows up to take Nick home after he (apparently) has a heart attack and dies in the dressing room. Larry is portrayed by a fine actor, Matt Mezzacapa, who, explains to the audience, after the play is over, that he had very little background information on Larry Virgilio to work with in order to create his character. It was haunting for me to watch this show and to see how Larry Virgilio was portrayed because I actually knew him in real life. He was a childhood friend of mine in Fairview Village, a suburb of Camden, NJ. I did not know his two older brothers, Tony and Nick, very well, for they were 15 and 16 years older than me. But Larry was my contemporary and so we became buddies. And we came to share the life in The Square, a teenage hang out in Fairview Village, for a some years, before he joined the Marine Corp and (eventually) on to Viet Nam . And so, I thought it would be important to recall my memories of Larry, which were ignited by this great play, to do his memory justice. When I first saw and heard Larry, he was probably 16 years old . He was noisy and shared a great smile with all of us. I was 14 and my nickname then, was ears since my ears stuck out . The doctor told my mother that I was sleeping with my ears flapped over. He also told me to eat more carrots to help my eyesight since I had been cursed with eyeglasses since the 4th grade. I am now 67 and I still have the curse. Larry soon renamed me phones because of my acute hearing. I probably developed my sense of hearing as a need of survival since I was an only child. I developed various forms of strategies and defenses at a young age in preparation for the outside world. But this was the first sign I recognized in Larry... he could move labels and ideas to a higher, more sophisticated level. Phones and Professor had diminished my somewhat cursed nickname bestowed on me by the older boys and I now had a more sophisticated station in life. I liked Larry Larry was able to mimic bird calls, insects, bus and truck & motorcycle sounds years before the likes of Rich Little or Bobby McFerrin. He could do many of the actors of the day... John Wayne, Bob Hope, Bogart and many more. I had never seen anyone like this before and all of us boys would laugh in amazement while he hopped dancing_feetaround in a circle. That was the thing about Larry, he could capture your attention in seconds. He was the original Robin Williams in a teenagers body. And if that wasnt enough he would run up to us and stick his powerful hand under our armpits squeezing and tickling us at the same time all the while making these incredible sounds with his mouth. It was probably the first time I experienced levitation because he would pick you up off your feet with his powerful biceps, the whole time creating bird sound in your face. Larry was a true performance artist and at the same time he could be unaccountably aggressive. On some days, Larry would demonstrate to us his wild form of dancing. Larry was known to go down on a Friday or Saturday night to Lawnside NJ. just to dance. He would tell us about the nightclubs he would go to and the beautiful colored girls who would love to dance with him, even fight over him just to fly with his energy. He would challenge some of us to go with him to The Top as it was called, a wild black night club where you could eat great soul food, watch a fight or get into one and dance all night till you dropped. And the girls...the girls were beautiful and magically dressed in bright yellows, reds, purples. How seductive and provocative. When I heard these stories I was excited but scared shitless at the same time since no one would dare go to The Top, that was where the coloreds were and you might meet your demise there some night. But this was Larry, fearless and willing to go where few would dare enter. He would routinely challenge us in our white protected Fairview world. And there was Larry the boxer...he could sneak up on you and throw a punch into your chest before you could even think about covering up or tensing your muscles as his swift blow rocked your heart into overdrive. My god his arm and fists were faster than his dancing shoes. It took me a while to feel comfortable with young Larrys personality...he was too fast, friendly and explosive like the future that suckered punched our worlds in one assassination event, a time coming around the corner, the 60s, we didnt know. After a time, Larry not only befriended me but looked after me. He would admonish me to stay away from some of the older kids, as I was trying to get in with them. You arent like the Square Rats, hed say, you have a good mother and father...be thankful. He would often walk me home from school, the whole time advising me on the higher qualities of life. When he met my parents, Evelyn and Curly, my mother took to him right away, his fast humor and get up close to you affect. You knew right away who and what Larry was about. She could tell he was a safe friend, not out to misguide me...he cared. I wasnt doing so well in mathematics so Larry offered to tutor me after school once a week. Again Larry was as quick as a snapping bull whip, twirling addition, subtraction and fractions faster than my morning cereal popping . The whole time he was with me, he punctuated my lesson with bird calls or insect sounds. It was a marathon. Our kitchen became a cacophony of forest sounds, for an hour,....without the bird shit. And sometimes, Larry and my father would talk about dancing and dance moves then they would try to outdo each other in the kitchen. (My father also loved banging the boards). He would go out dancing on Saturday nights until 1 or 2 am. He would dance every Wednesday and Saturday night for the next 30 years, up until a few weeks before he died.) When Larry spoke of his father I became aware of that same kind of respect and humbleness that I had for my own father. He often talked about his older brother, Nickaphonic Nick, a developing DJ with the Jerry Blavett radio show. Nick was a D.J. , but later, would become a writer, one who would bow down in front of his alter, the typewriter, to create beautiful Haiku poetry. He was engaged in his writing with the same precision and focus as one who was performing a high Japanese Tea ceremony. Nick was a wordsmith and perhaps, even an angel. And Nick, was young Larrys hero. Looking back now I think Larry believed he was unable to honor his father and brothers in the way he would have liked to. So when the Vietnam War came screaming into our consciousness he moved towards that honoring. I dont recall Larry ever expressing any guilt or remorse for his spontaneity. He extracted and shaped lifes energies and gave us a new meaning about what was previously invisible to us, an impulsive humorous command for action. Yes, I was in the square the day Larry climbed a flagpole in the middle of the square to stick a dime on the top with a piece of bubble gum. I didnt stick around to find out why he committed this Tom Sawyerish act. I found out, years later, though, (when I went to the play) that he stuck that dime on the flagpole as a reminder to his friends that he would return from Viet Nam and when he did return, he would snatch that dime off the pole. Well, he never got that opportunity. He never returned from Viet Nam. But, when he was alive, he would again and again defy and define lifes possibilities for us , to powerfully suggest , in so many quirky and wonderful ways , all that we could achieve in life, reminding us that we were all a gift from God and that we were put here on Earth to honor and to thoroughly enjoy that sacred gift. Mr. John In Honor of Nick Virgilio 1928 - 1989
Posted on: Sun, 14 Sep 2014 16:43:55 +0000
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