It’s the first season

of what have since become

fifty; a cast so unknown, so purposely

antithetical, that they are named

Not Ready. But tonight, this Saturday

from my childhood, the guest host is

Desi Arnaz. By this point, he is already enshrined

as king, as God, as Maker of nothing less

than television as Television; his studio gave the world

templates for sitcoms, crime dramas, even sci-fi, and he

gave himself, as the setup for his ex-wife,

so larger-than-life as to be equated with the color red.

Now of course this will not go without reference; the sketches

will almost all be about The Golden Age, from which he still appears

to hail, as long as you avoid looking at his teeth, changing colors with

the cigar smoking (also referenced) which is soon to finish its work on him.

But then the last bit airs. Desi and Desi Jr, and the band, will perform the song,

The song, the old Santeria hymn, “Babalu”. Desi is a man animated,

revived; age that has been painfully evident for 90 minutes

is now banished. As he undoes the bowtie, whips his head back, and bellows

“Manque Mambo!” again and again, he walks offstage,

and begins leading a conga line, a Children’s Crusade

of the eminent future:

the insecure girl from Canada,

the Albanian force of nature from Illinois,

the naïf from Los Angeles,

the former NYC School System teacher,

the autistic genius from Ottawa, and the rest.

It is a victory lap for the senior, a last triumph for

El Rey Del Television; for the kids,

it is a procession in the footsteps of a saint,

and a joyous march

which, for them, ends at History.

(To learn more about what inspired this poem, visit the YouseTube link below; the moment in question appears at 17:50. Apparently you’ll have to go to YT itself to view. Worth it, though.)

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