As a submissive and passive lad...

and boyish sexagenarian
with similar disposition,
I revel(ed) reading in general
(and spent carefree idle summer days
squirreled away with tomes
of posthumous authors)
buoyed aloft in seventh heaven
courtesy the treasure trove of books
occupying shelf space
within childhood home
at 324 Level Road
(long since razed to the ground)
and indulged passion
for the written word
as independent learning,
and both parents encouraged
voracious appetite for knowledge of mine
to explore great works of literature,
whereat hours whiled away
scrunched up with storied authors
as yours truly let his imagination
run free and clear especially
while paging thru the shenanigans
of Huckleberry Finn in particular
which constituted an etymological journey
rowing my figurative boat
into the vernacular backwaters
of Mark Twain's Hannibal Missouri
(where life is but a dream),
and at his crafting a close approximation
regarding the patois and lingual nuances
how enfranchised population spoke
pitting yours truly
with a near impossible mission
to furrow my brows and voice out loud
my futile attempt
to pronounce tongue twisters,
nevertheless while mouthing
and reading confounding words
experiencing a transcendent state
with not a care in the world.

Though a product
of the second half mid-twentieth
and thus far first quarter
of the twenty first century,
a nostalgia figuratively tugs
at my heart strings
(not only for remembrance
of things past),
but also hankering
for a time when the leisurely pace
of life plodded along
the boulevard of broken dreams
comfortably, gamesomely and lasciviously tepid
as exemplified by three prudish television shows
of the nineteen sixties
such as Mayberry R.F.D.,
The Brady Bunch, and The Family Affair,
but also additionally, an innocence
pervaded society whereby the wonderment
of natural wildlife
(courtesy Mutual of Omaha -
pitch man Marlin Perkins)
surprised, enlightened, and astounded me
essentially one cocooned
solitary passive aggressive boy
enamored by the simple life
such as that represented
by The Twilight Zone episode
"A Stop at Willoughby"
(Season 1, Episode 30)
about Gart Williams,
an advertising executive who,
overwhelmed by the pressures
of his job and home life,
finds solace in a recurring dream
of a peaceful, idyllic town
called Willoughby from the 1880s.

He becomes increasingly obsessed
with this dream,
eventually choosing to "stop" at Willoughby
a fictitious self imagined place in reality,
which tragically leads to his death
when he jumps from a moving train,
whereat the locomotive propelling the cars
could be synonymous
(or symbolizes) the frenetic pace of life.