The Tacks Of Ti'Tan

The Tacks Of Ti'tan

Sixty years ago,

a young John Korkie,

and his friend, Jon Strunk,

made a bond, a promise,

with just a single goal-

to outlast the test of time.

Jon had his black Chuck Taylors,

mine were phony knock-offs

from Backer's Bargain Barn.

We were under a tree,

behind my house

at 353 Jefferson Avenue,

just outside of the

noisy kitchen window.

Jon brought a couple tacks,

from his mother's sewing kit,

to be known forever as,

The Tacks of Ti'tan.

We were eight, almost nine,

and my family was moving again.

it was that very moment,

that we vowed we would be-

always together as friends.

Unlike the blood brothers ritual,

or an Omertà in the palms of our hands,

we had a spin our own,

because we were The Tack of Ti'tan.

In the rubber of our soles,

facing the inside of our shoes,

we both carefully inserted

our shiny two mementos.

And then we shook hands on

to celebrate our future of time.

As this time would pass,

we would transfer them onto

the next pair, and then again,

another.

And then we'd move on.

As life happened,

we'd lose touch, catch up,

lose touch, and catch up.

Sixty years is a long time

to remember.

And we did.

At our reunion last Saturday,

it became so much clearer,

to both of us.

We've lived through a lot of the fuzz,

and we've survived all the hum of the buzz,

And then, once again, there we were,

floating back through a time,

that almost never was-

like walking on the moon.

So, at the pub party on Sunday,

after the both of us stepped outside,

Jon reached down to lift his shoe,

to show the Tacks of Ti'tan he had on each sides.

One for each shoe, this time around,

with sixty years of memories.

We've traveled the distance,

now we're sailing and homeward bound..

Our Converse and boat shoes

are barely even worn-

The Tacks of Ti'tan

have just been reborn.

.