“I’m not sharing Sharon, of this I’m swearing.” – Jim Stafford, comic country singer-song writer in 1974. Strange how a song lyric can take your mind back in time, like a particular smell can. Stranger still is this song brings me back to a memory of recalling memories, or rather, of not recalling memories. Buddy … Continue reading Sharing
Naked with the baby-sitter in the elevator. Scraps of a Penthouse in the forest by the library. Who left it there, an adult? Another kid? Doesn’t matter so much as will they leave more there. Will West sells pulp quality magazines for quarters to buy pills. Will the pill. He’ll O.D. one night, not fatally … Continue reading Baby sitter in an Elevator
Fink-a-dope, fink-a-dope, fink-a-dope rock. Little Ronnie sang this to the tune of “Jingle-bell Rock”. He called me fink-a-dope after Mohammad Ali’s late career boxing strategy to tire out his opponent by enduring multiple fist blows while he protected his face with upraised fists and his back near the ring’s ropes. “I’m so pretty.” Mohammad would … Continue reading Fink-A-Dope
Will the Pill had vodka as well. Or a friend who would buy selectively. By buy, meaning buy for select underage curious drinkers. A can of Schlitz or a lifted bottle of wicker covered wine. Looks like something innocuous. Picking it out for grandma maybe. Not the stuff they’d expect us to lift anyway. Five … Continue reading Will the Pill
Every boy needs a jack knife. How can you get through scouts without one? One of my step-father’s few but proud fathering minutes. To the knife store then; I want something slick and fine to do nifty carving of small branches and Popsicle sticks. My knife has shiny wood panel sides like on Uncle Earl’s … Continue reading Jack the Knife
Goo more goo! The croquet balls have run amok! The wickets are dancing about and flying through the air. The mallets are breaking apart left and right. We need goo, more goo!! You mean ‘glue’? Yes, goo, sticky, ultra goo to hold it all together and patch up these sorry little unfit sticks. The rover … Continue reading Goo more goo!
Johnny Krafka said about the funniest thing I have ever heard. He lived in a tiny house by the pharmacy with his mother and little sister. He was second newest to the neighborhood, and was a very small and friendly boy. His mother tried to landscape the little scrub grass and dirt that was their … Continue reading The Whole Thing
When I was 10 years old, my best friend hit me in the head with a baseball bat. He was, and is, 2 and a half years older than me. The half year worth mention at the time, but not now of course as fractions of a year become less significant the older we become. … Continue reading Playground Storybook (that is what I’m calling this)