Thread: City Story

Rooftop Guru

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Paul had pigeons on the six-story tenement since 1928. He built his first pigeon coop soon after he and his new bride moved into the building. He couldn’t keep away from pigeons. It seemed his feathery pets were the third greatest love of his life—after his wife and children and his friends.

Living in his building, I used to go upstairs to the rooftop at least an hour each day to hang out with the 92-year-old man who possessed the enthusiasm of a teenager. Not only did he love raising and flying pigeons but he also loved flying kites, kites that weren’t bought in any hobby shop but were made from plastic shopping bags, sticks, tape, and strips of cloth--by the old man himself.

Both the pigeons and the kites occupied much of Paul's day. I'm not sure how many hours a day the old man spent on the rooftop, but an accurate estimate would be about five or six hours a day. And, what was truly amazing about him was that besides investing so much time in pigeons and kites, Paul always found the time to sweep and hose the roof. The tar-papered surface up there was so clean, that one could eat food from it. His roof, without question, was the cleanest rooftop in the entire neighborhood.

Has anyone ever spent an hour or two on a New York City rooftop? There is something mystical about hanging out on roof some six-stories above the sidewalk. Maybe, it's all the skyscrapers surrounding and decorating the landscape. Maybe it's the air up there--certainly the air is much more fresh than it is below in the street (and least, to me, it feels fresher). Perhaps, it’s the sunshine or the breeze or the rain that sweeps across one's face to make one special. On those rainy days, one cannot help getting his or her clothes wet up there--but, oh that rain, does it ever purify one's spirit! Whatever benefits (and there are many) one receives from hanging out on a city rooftop, those benefits were discovered by Paul long ago.

I began referring to Paul as the rooftop guru when I became aware of just how skilled he was in the rooftop activities. If one wanted to learn about pigeons, all one had to do was be in the company of Paul. From breeding them to flying and doctoring them, he understood pigeons as nobody else did. And, the kites? Oh, those homemade kites! Just hand him a plastic shopping bag, and Paul was ready to turn the bag into a high-flying wonder. The old man had eighty years of experience with pigeons and kites.

Paul isn't around these days, and neither is the pigeon coop. In the sky above the six-story tenement where colorful, feathery creatures once flapped their wings effortlessly and flew in circular motions to create a pleasant attraction for the eye, all that remains is emptiness. No longer do his birds beautify the sky; these days the sky is lifeless and dull. And the sunshine and the breeze and the rain up there, those mischievous elements that delightfully harassed the rooftop guru with their playful swipes across his face—they too mourn the loss of a dear companion. Like me, they sorely miss him.

I enjoyed the picture you painted quite a bit. Having had the fortune of being on a Manhattan rooftop, I can attest to the fun, magic quality you can find there. It's a wonderful escape from the non-stop commotion and activity going on below and it definitely sounds like Paul identified that.

My suggestions are just small things that don't change the structure of your piece .... you mention pigeons as the third greatest love, but list three other loves meaning pigeons would be 4th. You're not sure how many hours he spent up there, but provide an accurate estimate. Lastly, the third and fifth paragraphs seem like they could be merged. Many of the "rooftop guru" traits are present in the third paragraph.

I enjoyed the feel of your piece though and appreciate you sharing.