When I was just a boy

When I was a  boy of  5, we moved from Walnut St. to 2389 Hazel. (My Dad still lives on Hazel to this day). He still mows the lawn himself, and will get around to fixing that any day now. He still takes long rides in the back yard with His brother Cleave. The have a boat motor in a barrel of water in the back, and have been testing it out for as long as I can remember. They never get very far, but that’s okay: my dad doesn’t like staying anywhere too long any way.

Tiny and Nellie, Mr and Mrs. Smith lived on the right of us while the Nelsons lived on the left. We knew every one on the street and while most never came to our door, let alone through it: they all knew us as well. In those days one could send there kid out doors to blow the stink off,  and be almost sure they were coming back without brain damage or some other terrible trauma several hours later. Across the street, and down half a block, in the oldest, biggest, and most imposing house on the street, lived the Young’s. They were Catholic, and according to Mrs. Bailey “surely going to HELL”. I was scared to death of them, and very interested at the same time.  Since my Mother had informed me only murderers went to hell, if there even was such a place. I decided to put on my blue and white (mine were always blue and white, while Steve’s were brown and white) elastic waist crinkle crape shorts, barefoot sandals, and go down the block to see for myself. Kit, Jayne and I were sitting on the front porch discussing fashion, (remember I’m 5) when suddenly she appeared, the biggest Catholic on the street: Mrs. Young. She was absolutely beautiful, a secretary just like Ann Southern on TV. She had very dark hair and very white skin, wore a pale blue sailor dress with a big tie, and red spike heel shoes.( I later learned she had several clip on things to change the overall look of these shoes. I thought this to be extremely sophisticated). She had very long very RED fingernails that were pointed. and hyper extended thumbs (how did she type). She got out of her beige 1949 Chevrolet holding her tiny little Old Gold cigarette. Suddenly I just knew she was NOT going to HELL. She was going to open lots of doors for me. Over the next 15 years or so Kit, Jayne, Mrs. Young, and I traveled lots of miles together. I had my first taste of spaghetti at her kitchen table, and my first pizza too (both Chief Boyardee) I learned about Toile de Jouy and Schumacher fabrics. She talked about her life in New York with her cultivated New England accent; both Jayne and I couldn’t wait to go:  

Jayne off to school, to study fashion and illustration at the Fashion Institute. Me years later off to shop, run around Broadway, the Village and any where a cab could take me …One more woman who taught me very important things….