Monday, May 28, 2012

A day Away From the Golf Course

           I usually leave the shopping up to my wife especially when it involves Big Box stores, such as Wal-Mart, Sam’s Club or Costco!  Normally, she does the shopping while I’m golfing or I will drop her off while I visit the nearby golf stores while she takes care of this ghastly chore!  However, in a moment of weakness and a complete disregard of logical reasoning, she promised me a large diet coke and hotdog for lunch if I would drive and accompany her to the Costco store in Rancho Mirage…an agreement was now made with a non-renege clause!

          The one hour drive from Hemet to Rancho Mirage was uneventful putting my mind in somewhat of a hypnotic state while being accompanied with a full bladder!  As I finally pulled my truck into the parking facilities of Costco, I quickly emerged from my hypnotic state with the guarantee of imminent bladder relief once inside!  Also, sprawled before me in the parking lot was a sea of the largest vehicles ever known to man parked crooked in every space…it appeared the entire elderly population from the desert was present for another day of free food samples! 

            Not wanting to risk a dent to my truck from the errant opening of an oversized car door or a broken side mirror from a stumbling senior using it as a shower handhold, I elected to park in the adjoining lot at Golfsmith and walk hurriedly the remaining distance over to the Costco store!  Still, one had to be very agile and brave enough to navigate the obstacle course of run-away wheel chairs, wayward walkers and mean spirited seniors with canes before arriving at the front entrance of Costco!

          Before entering the giant shopping arena, I secured a shopping cart of an enormous size of which I thought I would need a commercial driver’s license to operate!  At the entry door I had to show my membership card to a non-smiling and grimacing employee who appeared to be suffering from a severe case of painful constipation with no prospect of an immediate reprieve!  As I could relate with his excruciating pain, I quickly hurried off to the men’s restroom for a much over due bladder respite for myself!

          Sadly, I had to wait in a very unhurried line which reminded me of a ‘slow play’ golf day at Diamond Valley!  I waited behind those who, without a doubt, needed assistance with their own body functions…hopefully after they were able to undo their zippers or trousers!

          While unceremoniously waiting in a main aisle for my wife to find an item, I happened to turn around just in time to see an overfilled shopping cart that appeared to be the size of a semi-truck heading straight at me at a high rate of speed with apparently no one in control of its destination!  With the agility of a highly trained athletic and the timing of a Swiss clock, I was able to quickly sidestep and avert an injury that would have certainly ended my golfing career!  As the over-loaded shopping cart barely missed me and rolled past, I noticed that it was indeed being piloted by an ‘old peep’ that who could not see above or around her large cargo!  An old peep is a small obscured person who drives a vehicle and has to peep up through the steering wheel and over the dashboard to find their way!

          Finally, I had had enough of compulsory acrobatics and perilous encounters with people who insisted on using their shopping carts as rolling battering rams!  Immediately, I guided my wife to safety and over to the food court to collect my promised reward of a large diet cola and hot dog!  

          After a short wait, I was served the long awaited hot dogs with empty containers for our drinks of which my wife dutifully filled with chipped ice and diet cola!  I un-wrapped my all beef hot dog to find that the oversized Weiner hung limply over each end of an undersized bun which immediately reminded me to take ¼ of a Viagra pill for tomorrow’s golf match whereas I would not piss on my new golf shoes!  

         
            

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Kings of the Corn

While working most of his life as a professional house painter our dad, Footsie Watkins, had been serving as a volunteer fireman while we lived on 12th Street in Wood River, Illinois.  Sometime in 1951 he learned of a full-time job opening for a fireman with the Village Fire Department in Roxana, Illinois.  Footsie immediately applied for and was offered the job.  He gladly accepted and started training as a full-time fireman…no more painting for him!  However, there was an Ordinance requiring all Village employees to live within the Roxana Village limits so dad had to find a house within the Roxana Village limits!

Somehow, with no apparent financial funds and with very little real estate knowledge, Footsie concocted a business deal with the Roxana Chief of Police, Roscoe Duncan, and bought from him a little block house the corner of Maple and Thomas Streets in Roxana.  At that time, the house was a small run-down concrete block structure with three small bedrooms, kitchen and living room with no hint of living grass or landscape! However, it did have an indoor toilet that leaked and never worked right as long as we lived there…still, we thought the cotton was getting higher for our family!”

          At that time, Roxana was a small Village of approximately 1,500 souls situated inland, east of the Mississippi River on the Illinois side.  Many people from Roxana boasted that they lived on the Mississippi River, but they did not…the river did not belong to them!  The River belonged to those who suffered from the ravaging floods that caused losses in the millions of dollars on an annual basis!  The River belonged to the poor people who fished and depended upon its kindness for their survival!  It also belonged to the unfortunate people of Alton who lived on Mud Street in Dog Town, whose shanties were flooded each spring as the muddy waters of the mighty Mississippi over run its banks and showed them no mercy!  The only claim to fame the people of Roxana may have had was the stink emitted from the local refineries of which they tried to ignore, believing it was not there!

There were many good people who lived in Roxana.  However, there also was a narcissistic group of individuals who, unfortunately, held Village leadership positions and gave the impression they were above everyone else!  They acted as though they were a special gift to all from God on high!  When, in fact, they had become a very judgmental, self-serving and an unforgiving snobbish group of hypocrites!

 This pompous group of “Roxana people” felt they were the elite and subsequently treated those from South Roxana and Wood River with some disdain!  As the school district encompassed Roxana, South Roxana, Rosewood Heights, Wanda, Kendall Hill and part of Wood River, cliques were formed with many students left out and ignored in various degrees.

Due to the influence of numerous Churches found within the confines of Roxana, the “City Fathers” never allowed taverns or package liquor stores to be located within the Village limits.  This being the case, alcoholic drinks consumed or bought by those living in Roxana were purchased in neighboring South Roxana or Wood River liquor establishments.   If urine in the Roxana sewers could have been measured for alcoholic content, the whole town would have been arrested for urinating while under the influence.

In 1952, the tenth and final child of our family, John Ray, was born in the little block house on the corner.  While our living accommodations were now above ground and appeared to be better, our life was still not good!  We now had ten children along with a mother, father and Grandmother living together in this small and crowded dwelling.  Nobody had the luxury of sleeping in a single bed by themselves, much less having a private bedroom!  

Even though dad had a steady income as a fireman, a usage of alcohol and gambling still kept our financial resources depleted!  It appeared that we had made the all-time Catholic Charities Christmas permanent needy list, with no escape in sight! It seemed that our family’s lowly social status was now etched in stone within the Roxana community!  However, our mom always did her best to make things better for us!  Many mornings there would not be anything to eat for breakfast when we awoke.  With a quivering voice and tears in her eyes, she would simply say in her Arkansas drawl,
 
  “Y’all kids go on to school now and don’t worry, I promise to have    something here to eat for y’all after school!”  She never failed us!

Grady and I had always treated our family’s condition of poverty with comical retorts and jokes, making fun of our lack of social standing and acceptance.  This approach seemed to help us not feel sorry for our position in life and the community.  It also gave us a sense of humor that would be with us for the rest of our lives!

Grady and I took drivers education training in high school under the tight tutorship and direction of Mr. John Geninatti.  It was quite apparent that our actions or inactions behind the wheel caused him much anxiety and discomfort!  Regardless of our superior driver education and certifications of safety, Footsie still would never let us drive his 1939 green Chrysler as he thought the driving skills that he had honed as a Bootlegger was still much greater than ours! 

Eventually, Grady and I raised enough money through various efforts and bought a 1926 Chevrolet with questionable mechanical brakes!  Most of the time the brakes wouldn’t perform and we had to gear down or bump into a front yard tree to stop the car! When dad traded the Chrysler for a newer car, Grady and I visited Gloss Motors in Wood River and traded our car for his old 1939 green Chrysler with promises of future payment!  The salesman for Gloss Motors, Mr. Gerald Shaver, lived up the block from us and handled the transaction.  We think he was mostly interested in getting our 1926 Chevrolet with a dubious braking system off the street for public safety!

While we lived in the little block house in Roxana, Dewey “Dude” Howell had a serious crush on our sister Alice and subsequently become one of our best friends.  It was not like him at all, but Footsie really took a liking to Dewey and would even include him in his cussing tirades!  This was very rare as dad’s outbursts of temper usually terrified and scared away most of her boy friends!  Subsequently, Dewey become like one of the family…our mother took him under her wing and treated him like one of her own!  Dewey’s dad, Wilbur Howell, also liked Grady and I in return…Dewey had our parents fooled and we had Dewey’s dad fooled! 

We loved to play baseball and whenever we could, the three of us would attend Cardinal Baseball games at Sportsman’s Park, located on Grand and Dodier Streets in St. Louis.  We never had money but would somehow gain entry to the ballgame through ruse and ingenuity!  After a night game we were always hungry and would come back to Alton across the old Clark Bridge to pay an early morning visit to our favorite Bakery located on Front Street!  Each evening, Noll’s Bakery would bake fresh bread, doughnuts and sweet rolls which were to be delivered the following day throughout the area to various outlets!   The aroma of delicious baked goods usually proved too great of a temptation for three hungry young men at such an early morning hour!  To make things even more tempting, the bakery employees would put the bakery goods in bread racks, just inside their overhead doors, ready for their delivery trucks to load!

As Dewey was the youngest and quickest, it usually meant that he would approach the target, reconnoiter and if all clear would then become the designated runner! With the strength and agility of a panther, he would leap upon the loading dock, assess the situation, and with the timing of a Swiss clock seize whatever “goodies” accessible and speedily depart for a well earned feast!  We justified our actions by feeling it was our patriotic duty as good citizens to act as official tasters before any of the bakery goods were sold and delivered to the local stores for public consumption!  Therefore, we relished that our unselfish heroic roles protected the health of our fellow citizens from any food endangerment due to a possible unfortunate recipe mistake by the bakery personnel! 

During the summer of 1953, the “Three Amigos” saw an ad in the paper wanting people to de-tassel corn in Jerseyville for a period of three to four weeks!  We had no idea what de-tasseling corn meant, but for some reason thought this might be a good opportunity to make some legitimate money before school reconvened in the fall!  We telephoned the company who had placed the ad and told them we were interested in working!  They agreed to our proposal and said our pay would be based solely on piece-work and production!  Also, that we would need to furnish our own groceries along with sleeping bags and tents!  They also gave us a starting date which was about three weeks away!  At the time, we didn’t have any money and was so broke we couldn’t even put fifty cents worth of gas in the car let alone enough money for the provisions required for our employment in waiting!

However, a welcome upgrade by the City of Wood River come to our rescue as they had just installed new sewers on East Acton, just off Central Avenue where Dewey lived!  Dewey’s dad worked at the Shell Refinery and bowled in the evenings leaving him little time to dig a long sloped trench from the rear of the house out to the street for a tie-in to the main sewer trunk line!  Dewey convinced his dad that the three of us could do the job quickly and in a workmanlike manner sparing him much sweat while giving him more time to bowl!  As Wilbur was an avid bowler that suggestion may have sealed the deal!  It was the hottest part of the summer when we started digging!  After about ten days of sweat and many blisters, we completed the job to Wilbur’s satisfaction!  With the money he paid us, we bought food and packed up some old blankets to improvise as sleeping bags!  We figured to sleep in the car and not have a tent, thus saving some of our hard earned money for more important social events!

On the morning that we were to report for work, we awoke very early and drove before sun-up to Jerseyville!  It was still dark when we arrived west of town on Route 16.  We parked the car under a tree, joked, talked and imagined how much money we were going to earn before finally dozing off while waiting for the day to break!  At last, the morning’s first rays of sunlight broke the stillness of the night!  The hot sun started rising quickly as if it were an express elevator hurrying to the zenith of its destination whereas to personally punish us with its extreme heat during our first day of work! 

The passenger door of the green Chrysler would not close and had to be secured shut with a piece of tied rope!  With all of the windows of the car rolled down and hoping for a cool breeze of any kind, we started the car and proceeded west on Route 16 for our designated rendezvous to become Kings of the Corn! 

The further we drove and the nearer we got to our destination, all we could see for miles and miles was rows of corn that needed to be de-tasseled on what was going to be a very, very hot and humid day…there was not a leaf moving or a breeze to be felt!  At this early hour, it had already become so hot that the buzzards circling high above would not even consider landing on the blistering concrete for a fresh meal of road-kill!

As we continued to drive, Dewey asked me to stop along the road where he could examine some of the corn stalks more closely to become more familiar with what had to be de-tasseled!  While Dewey was outside the car examining the corn and acting like he had suddenly become an expert of the corn de-tasseling process, Grady looked at me, shook his head in a negative manner and said,

“Bill, there’s no way I’m going to work in the heat of this day or any other day like it…let’s go home!” 

I looked at him and nodded in agreement, turned the car around and yelled for Dewey to get in the car and come with us!  Dewey started yelling that we had come too far and should at least give corn de-tasseling a try!?

I kept driving at a slow speed waiting for Dewey to catch up!  ‘Ole Dude’ jumped on the running board yelling for me to stop—instead, I sped up!  Dewey wrapped his arms around the roped car post and kept yelling to slow down!  Grady and I laughed all the way back to Jerseyville where Dewey furiously got back into the car!  We drove back home to Roxana!  Dewey was mad as a hornet, but come to understand that in a democracy, the majority rules!

As a good friend, Dewey forgave us for our impulsive actions!  We then fabricated a tale that explained our early return home from Corn County which seemed to protect our reputations as entrepreneurs to everyone!

Dewey remembered and continued to visit with our mother in Hemet until her death at 90 plus years!  When the three of us see or speak to one another, we still recall that special day when we could have been crowned Kings of the Corn58 years ago!  





A Christmas Journey

The young Soldier was the eldest of ten children and according to southern tradition, the older children were expected to help support their family and raise their younger siblings!  With the Korean War winding down, jobs were very hard to get…many breadwinners were looking for meaningful work with not much success!  The young Soldier was the first person in his family to graduate from High School and had wanted to attend College but with his family’s financial condition, that was not an option at this time!  

The young Soldier had turned eighteen in April of 1954 and graduated from high school in June of that same year. In July, with no job in sight, he decided to enlist in the U.S. Army and volunteered his Service for Korea…he had never been any further from home than St. Louis and really had no idea where Korea was!  With the family still in dire financial straits, he had hoped to create a supplemental income allotment in their behalf from his monthly paycheck!

In August, the young Soldier passed the army physical and was sent to Camp Chaffee, Arkansas for his basic Infantry training, lasting eight weeks!  From there, he was sent to Aberdeen Proving Grounds, located just outside of Baltimore, Maryland on the Chesapeake Bay for another eight weeks of advanced training. 

The young Soldier’s assignment at Aberdeen Proving Grounds had proved to be quite uneventful until the holiday season of 1954 approached…he, along with his buddies, became very homesick as the Christmas day neared!  He was still only eighteen years old and this would be his first Christmas away from home and his family!  Even with the alcoholism and verbal abuse which usually displaced any form of Christmas spirit in their home, the young Soldier still missed being with his family!  He had accepted the fact that he would have to spend this Christmas day in the barracks with some of his buddies!  On weekends, he would take the base shuttle bus to downtown Baltimore just to walk and look in the department store windows and mentally Christmas shop presents for his family while listening to the Christmas music!

However, on the Friday evening of the Christmas weekend, the First Sergeant come to the barracks and stated that if anyone wanted a three day pass for Christmas weekend, they could receive one if their bunk and floor area could pass his stringent inspection!  The young Soldier’s heart leaped for joy and skipped a beat with high anticipation of the possibility of being able to be home for Christmas!  

The young Soldier wasted no time getting his floor area mopped and waxed along with his bunk being made ready for immediate inspection!  His bunk area passed inspection and he was given a three day weekend pass for Christmas!  As the Army only paid on the first of every month, the young Soldier found himself to be financially strapped and had only twenty cents to fund his round trip of two thousand miles or more!? Also, heavy snow had already covered the ground with much more snow expected over the weekend! The weather had turned very cold with the forecast calling for near zero temperatures!  He had never hitch-hiked any great distance before, but figured if he wanted to go home, there was no other choice!

The young Soldier estimated that if he was to reach home before Christmas, he would have to travel all night and all day of Christmas Eve to hopefully arrive in time for Christmas day!  As he had no money, he felt a regret for his younger brothers and sisters as he knew there would be no Christmas gifts for them this year but was still concerned for their physical well being!  He very much wanted to be with his family once again before having to return to Maryland for his overseas assignment!

That night before leaving, the young Soldier dressed as warm as he could! He put on long wool underwear and dressed in his ‘Class A’ uniform with his G.I. lined overcoat for the long trip that lay ahead! He took the Shuttle Bus to downtown Baltimore and asked for directions for which route he should take for his journey!  With directions firmly planted in his mind he threw his duffle bag over his shoulder and walked to the outskirts of Baltimore to find Route 40 that would take him home!

With the snow continuing to fall, the young Soldier commenced walking west on Route 40 with his thumb out hoping for a quick offer of a ride!   Shortly, he got a ride with a male individual in a convertible with a big tear in the canvas top---and as luck would have it, the car heater did not work either!  The young Soldier thought he had dressed warm enough for the trip, but had apparently underestimated the weather and nearly froze when they drove through the mountains…it was so cold he could hardly move his feet and toes!

The young Soldier’s first ride ended during the night at an isolated intersection somewhere in eastern Ohio, just past the Pennsylvania border!  It had continued to snow very hard with a cold and frigid wind blowing with a gale like force! He was shivering and had become very hungry as it had turned much colder than he had anticipated! The young Soldier estimated that he was probably at the point of “no return” and may as well ‘freeze to death’ going home rather than ‘freeze to death’ going back to his Army base!  He decided to continue homeward! 

He felt very discouraged, alone and forsaken! In a frozen stupor he visualized the face of his mother wearing her little head scarf with her unlined thin raggedly tweed winter coat held together by safety pins waving as to beckon her oldest child homeward!  He thought of the many times she had overcome adversity with prayer, so he decided to say a prayer for comfort and deliverance from the misery he had seemingly put himself in!  After he finished his silent prayer, a warm feeling of comfort enveloped him and he knew immediately that he would be looked after by a higher being!

Shortly thereafter, a car seemed to arrive out of nowhere and stopped to offer him a ride!  The driver was a U.S. Army Sergeant First Class, with his wife, on the way to St. Louis for the holidays!  They said they would take the young Soldier as far as they could before crossing over the Mississippi River into St. Louis!  He told them that if they would drop him off at that point, he would be very grateful!  Their car heater worked and he drifted off to sleep for some much needed rest and thawing out!  They traveled the rest of the night and on into the next day.  The Sergeant and his wife stopped to eat breakfast where the young Soldier would spend one of his two dimes for a hot drink that would last until he arrived home.

As they left the restaurant and continued their journey west, the young Soldier closed his eyes and thought of his mother and the many sacrifices and difficult times that she had endured and made in behalf of her children!  He loved his mother dearly and remembered the heartbreak and tears that she had shown when he had left for basic training in August…he wondered what his mother’s reaction would be when he arrived home unannounced and then would have to leave once more…her farewell tears would be hard for the young Soldier to bear again!

Later that day, the kind Sergeant and his wife dropped the young Soldier off at the Junctions of 111 and 40 before they crossed over the Mississippi River into St. Louis.  As the young Soldier got out of the car, he again thanked them profusely for their hospitality and wished them a very Merry Christmas! He was completely exhausted and was in dire need of a hot shower and shave!  However, he kept reminding himself that he would soon be home with his family!

The young Soldier started walking toward his home on highway 111 and almost immediately got a ride with a man in a pick-up truck for the final portion of his trip…the man was going to pass right through his hometown!  While feeling a deep sense of relief that he was finally on the last leg of an arduous journey, his pulse again quickened with excitement of being so near home! 

Soon, the familiar sight of the Cahokia Mounds appeared on his far right! He knew that before long he would be counting down the ‘three humps’ on Route 111 before experiencing the acrid smell of the Oil Refinery and then entering the Village limits of his hometown! 

The driver dropped the young Soldier off at the corner just two blocks from where he lived!  With his duffle bag thrown over his shoulder and as he had done many times before, he hurriedly walked the last few blocks to the little block house on the corner…HOME AT LAST!

As the young Soldier had not the time or money to call ahead, his family was not expecting to see him this Christmas!  Needless to say, his mother cried with pure joy and happiness upon his arrival! The rest of the family, and even his father, were very happy to see him---even if it would only be for an abbreviated Christmas weekend!

The young Soldier’s weekend pass would expire as he was scheduled to be back at Aberdeen Proving Grounds by , the day after Christmas!  He had no idea how that was going to happen as he had no money for train fare and did not have the time to hitch-hike back to the East Coast!  He contacted Scott Air Force Base in Belleville, Illinois and told them of his dilemma and asked for their help! Fortunately, the Air Force had a Military Air Transport Service (MATS) Cargo Plane that was scheduled for a flight to Maguire Air Force Base on the day after Christmas!  If the young Soldier would pay a dollar for a parachute, in the event of an emergency, he would be allowed on that flight!  Between his family and friends, they were able to raise the dollar for his passage! 

The young Soldier arrived at Maguire Air Force Base late in the afternoon of December 26, 1954!  He was then directed to the Military Land Transportation Service and rode a shuttle bus back to Aberdeen Proving Grounds, Maryland and reported to his Command…and on time!

Shortly thereafter, the young Soldier was sent to Fort Dix, New Jersey for an overseas assignment to Europe.  He would be gone for the next two and one-half years with no chance of furlough back to the States!  And yes, while away, he missed and was homesick for his family each Christmas thereafter!

Fifty-seven years have since passed and the young Soldier has now become an old man!  Nevertheless, when the soft restrains of Christmas music is heard by him, he thinks of those lonely homesick nights spent in downtown Baltimore and the long Christmas journey home because of the love and concern he had and still has for his younger brothers and sisters…and now, his own family!


W.W. Watkins,










Wednesday, October 26, 2011

The Gray Box

Many years passed with the people of the South toiling and trying to recover from the losses and humiliation they had suffered at the hands of the Northern invaders.  For some, the hard work paid off and for some, it did not! The outcome of the Civil War had financially and personally affected many southern families and the physiological make up of future generations!

It is inconceivable how bigotry and self pity were passed on from generation to generation that seemed to have poisoned the minds and suppressed the financial and spiritual growth of many southern families for many years to come! Another major setback was to occur that would eventually rock the foundation of our Nation…this time both North and South would feel the pain and agony!

In 1929, the stock market crashed resulting in the failure of our Nations economy.  Cotton prices fell to an all time low!  The depression era had begun!  The depression of that time affected everyone and all businesses.  There was no escape…people had to do what they had to do for survival!  Our family was no different and did not escape the poverty of which we seemed to be destined for as there was no work, money or much food for families to survive on. 

Living in Arkansas at that time was very hard for families to stay together!  The men, including my dad, would have to travel away from their homes to find work.  To do this, the standard mode of travel for most males was riding the rails! When away from their families during these hard and difficult times, many family men were forced to live the life of a hobo on the road while trying to earn a daily wage!  As Prohibition was in force, many had their own moonshine operations and made their corn liquor to trade or sell---this simply was a sign of the times for people to survive especially those with a very limited education!

Dad would put a lot of his attention and energy in distilling and selling boot-leg whiskey!  He and his pals would make their batches, sell or trade what they could and drink the rest!  Many times, it appeared they drank more than they sold or traded!

Dad and his friends would wear their brimmed felt hats cocked to one side of their head and really considered themselves suave by Arkansas standards!  However, as suave as they might have thought themselves to be, they never seemed to have any money or a pot to spit in!

Dad married my mother in 1935 and continued to live in Arkansas where he tried to scrape out a meager living by painting homes and doing carpentry work!  He was a very good painter and craftsman which inspired him to do his best when he worked!  However, work was not plentiful which made us live a life of poverty and uncertainty!

I was born in 1936 and would eventually become the oldest of ten children.  One day in 1939 while dad was doing a carpentry job, he took me to work with him to play in the sawdust and keep him company!  I watched as he made a large sized wooden box from scrap pieces of wood. He sandpapered it, put hinges on the lid with a lock hasp and painted it gray. To a young boy, it appeared to be a very fine piece of workmanship!  He would use the gray box to keep his private and personal belongings in for many years!

Dad seemed to have two personalities, one for his friends and the other for his family at home!  When he would start talking or yelling, every other word in his sentences would be a swear word!  Sometimes, when he would get real mad, he’d forget what cuss words he had already used--he would then gasp, spit and stutter, get redder in the face and use the same cuss words over and over!  Those brave enough would snicker and laugh!  Even with these short comings, he seemed to be popular and well liked by his peers!  He had a sense of humor and always seemed to have a good time when he was around his friends—but when at home he was quite intimidating and did not show much love toward his family which created a very stressful atmosphere!

 We were always told never to mess around or play on the gray box!  Because of his adamant instructions, an aura of mystery was created in our young minds pertaining to the contents of the gray box!  We each had our own personal cardboard box that contained ‘our private stuff’ which was also considered off limits to anyone else, so we understood and respected our dad’s right of privacy regarding his gray box!

For a number of years I remained obedient and would not have thought of molesting the gray box in any way! However, one day while Dad was away, my brother Grady and I succumbed to a youngster’s inquisitiveness and planned to enter into the world of mystery surrounding the gray box!  We used an old butter knife to take out the screws holding the rear lid hinges in place to finally satisfy our many years of obvious curiosity and wonderment!

  With the front lock still intact and our hearts pulsating out of control, we nervously looked at each other while lifting the lid up off the gray box hoping to find a worldly treasure of gold coins or maybe something of equal value!?  To our surprise, we found nothing but family photos, including many pictures of us kids in various stages of life and a few pocket knives that dad had previously confiscated from my brother and I!  While quickly re-attaching the hinges I felt ashamed for invading my Dad’s realm of privacy!  However, on that day, I discovered and realized that our Dad did indeed love us but did not know how to show it!

Mom and dad divorced after twenty-five years of marriage with both remarrying.  Dad died in 1987 with all of his worldly belongings going to his second wife except for the photos in the gray box which was recovered by one of my sisters!  I laid claim to the gray box that had secretly guarded the unspoken love our father once had for his family! If the gray box could only speak, it would have many stories to tell of the hidden love my Dad felt for his family but was not capable of telling them!  I still have in my possession the gray box that is now seventy years old and one day will be looking for a new home! 

          I think about and attempt to honor my Father almost on a daily basis.  I deeply feel that he has found peace and happiness and is patiently and joyously waiting for his family to join him where he may personally tell them of the love that he once felt toward them, but never learned how to express it in his mortal life!  Like the rest of us, my dad was certainly not without fault!  It appeared that at certain intervals in his life he tried to change for the better with very little or no encouragement from others who constantly thought the worst in and of him and refused to let him make a change.

          “If you treat a person as they could be, they will become as they should be.  If you treat a person as they are, they will remain as they are!”

A Letter of Tribute to My Mother

Another year is almost over and past!  It seems incredible that you and I have survived and shared so much within the short time we have spent upon this earth!  It is for certain that some of the times have been very rough but there are still good times that I want to remember!

I remember a Mother who sacrificed dearly for her offspring.  I remember a Mother who fought for and would have given her life for her children--I think in many respects she did give her life for her children!! 

I remember a Mother who, at times in the mornings, had to tell her children that there was nothing to eat and that they should go ahead to school, but not worry, for she would have food for us when we come home!  I remember a Mother who would not eat a meal herself unless her children could eat first!

I remember a Mother who did not have decent clothes to wear who attended one of my varsity basketball games in the dead of winter wearing an old tweed coat, with no lining, held together with an array of safety pins! While ignoring the icy stares of the more fortunate who surrounded her, she sat in the bleachers with a pose of royalty and dignity proudly cheering for me!  I remember a Mother who would support and encourage myself and the other nine children in all they would do or endeavor to do! 

I remember a Mother who cried her eyes out when I went into the armed services and equally cried her eyes out upon my return three years later!

I remember a Mother who repeatedly was told by relatives and others that if she continued having so many children she would surely die at a young age!  Those who offered this kindly advice have since passed on.  The only person remaining is My Mother of ninety years who gave me life and taught me how to dream, work hard and never give up!  I owe so much to my Mother, “A Queen”!!


Wednesday, September 28, 2011

"Me and NuNu"


This is one of a number of short stories about Footsie Watkins and his family’s nomadic lifestyle. Billy and Grady (NuNu) was the eldest of ten children born into a family of dysfunction, poverty and bigotry.  The two older boys bonded and grew up together learning to deal with adversity while leaning on one another for moral and physical support throughout their lives that was filled with sadness, humor and hope!


61 East Madison Avenue

Again, the rent had not been paid which prompted an argument between the landlord and our dad, Footsie Watkins!  The landlord also mentioned that he was not too happy with the holes in the wall board that had that had been caused from a recent potato fight with our cousins, Jerry Dean and Bobby Dale Williams!  Our misbehavior and irresponsibility of having an indoor potato fight had turned our dad into a raving and slobbering maniac of which NuNu and I had paid a dear price by dancing to the tune of his razor strop!   Nevertheless, the landlord invited our family not to live there any longer! 

Prior to that, our family had been humiliated while being evicted from an old converted rat infested one car garage with no utilities, heat, bathroom or water!  A picture of our family appeared on the front page of the local newspaper announcing the eviction---it was very embarrassing for those old enough to understand!  However, the cockroaches were probably glad to see us move because we never had enough food and they had to eat next door!

Aside from our errors of judgment, NuNu and I determined that if we were going get through this life and live to be a ripe old age, we had better learn how to cope with any humiliating and degrading circumstances and roll with the punches---we learned at an early age that if we were to compete within society and the realm of the real world, we needed to become more creative for our own sake and survival!

Our next place of abode was found to be in a downtown slum-like neighborhood on Madison Avenue in Wood River, Illinois.  Including our family, there were a total of eight families living in our tenement building with each the adjoining buildings housing the same number of families.  The walls were thin with virtually no privacy…thus everyone was able to overhear and therefore knew first hand of their neighbors private affairs!


61 East Madison Avenue was located one block behind the main street of Ferguson Avenue where the downtown stores were situated separated by a back alley. Taverns were plentiful on both Madison and Ferguson Avenues with drunkards openly reeling down the sidewalks, sleeping and urinating in doorways and sometimes even worse!

However, regardless of the many taverns and the unruly clientele they attracted, massive crowds of people would gather, shoulder to shoulder, to shop downtown Wood River on Fridays and Saturdays!  Husbands would bring their wives to cash their paychecks at either Tri City or Kroger’s and buy their weekly supply of groceries…both stores were located within two blocks of each other!  As there were yet no malls or super stores, most families did the majority of their shopping at the downtown establishments!  We usually took advantage of the week-end crowds to ply our shoe-shine business.

On Mondays, we would forage the alleys behind the grocery stores for over ripe fruit and day old bakery products. Our family was always elated when we hit a mother-lode of edible day old bakery products and over ripe bananas!  Apples, and especially oranges, that were too over ripe would be salvaged and used as ammunition to be thrown at automobiles or lobbed over the stores at unsuspecting pedestrians strolling on Ferguson Avenue! 

The neighborhood was a mixture of Armenians, Italians, Germans and other ethnic groups.  When everyone found out that we were from Arkansas, they referred to us as ‘Arkies’ labeling us as red-necks of which we were proud of and never defended! 

An old man, John Dockovich, lived downstairs in the tenement next door to us and when we would say something not pleasing, he would say “shuta uppa ya face or I break’a ya nose!”  Old John ‘Doc’ really liked us even when we attempted to mock him in his own dialect---he would roar with laughter for our poor impersonations of him!

There were no black people living in Wood River. Wood River was a sun-downer town which meant that blacks had to be out of town by sun-down!  Subsequently, this encouraged the black people to live in Alton and other surrounding communities that didn’t carry this moniker!  Even so, Alton Blacks were still required to ride in the rear of the buses and had to use their own restrooms and water fountains which was very degrading to them and their race!  We could relate somewhat to the Blacks humiliation as our family was often referred to as white trash and many times denied the same privileges that others routinely enjoyed!

Regardless of nationalities, most everyone living in our neighborhood was a St. Louis Cardinal base ball fan!  We could walk from one end of Madison Avenue to the other and hear Harry Carey describing the feats of our beloved Cardinals on the radios---it was like a neighborhood stereo!  When the Cardinals would play the Chicago Cubs and put the big hurt on them, everyone was elated!  You would hear Harry Carey say, “swung on…its hit…way back…way, way back…it might be, it could be…it is, a HOME RUN!!”  Stan Musial was my favorite ballplayer and hero--it was always more gratifying when he got the big hit---which was more often than not!

With so many taverns in our neighborhood, cold buckets of beer were the norm.  As no one living on Madison Avenue could afford refrigeration, there was a steady stream of “beer runners” bringing home their favorite brand of cold lager, be it Falstaff, Stag or Bluff City, to name a few local beers.  It seemed beer was a staple in most households regardless of a families’ financial status or income!  Deposits were required on the bottles and buckets…being the enterprising and creative individuals that NuNu and I had become enabled us to accumulate these items and cash in on this bonanza often!

Whenever someone in our group would cut the cheese, this unpleasant odor allowed anyone nearby to yell chugs!  Whoever said chugs first meant that person had the right to hit the person who ‘farted’ in the shoulder hard with his closed fist followed by the same of any and all others who were present!  You could always tell apart the guys who farted a lot as they always had black and blue marks all over their upper arms! However, a guy who could fart and stink up everything on a regular basis seemed to be held in high esteem by his friends!  As our family usually consumed beans on a daily basis, NuNu and I sported bruised arms but were highly respected by our peers!

At times, groups of us would go to the Wood River movie theater on Wood River Avenue just to have farting contests and see how much we could disrupt other people’s pleasure! Sometimes we would ‘cut-the-cheese’ in a row of seats, get up and move to other seats while holding our noses and pointing to a guiltless unsuspecting patron as the Usher come down the aisle to see what all the commotion and stink was about!  Many times, we were kicked out of the movies for our mischievousness and smelly behavior!

Booger Foster

Donald ‘Booger’ Foster and his family lived in the unit directly behind us with their entry door in the rear on the alley side.  Boogers dad, ‘Snooks’, was a small thin man who slinked around the neighborhood like a little scared mouse trying to hide along a base board!  His mom was stone deaf and always yelled and cussed so loud everyone could hear her through the thin walls!  She was especially loud when ‘Snooks’ come home drunk, which was almost nightly!  She was an extremely wide and large person who appeared to have consumed too many of the day-old pastries that we had salvaged from behind the downtown grocery stores…and unfortunately, was challenged by the lack or hint of any ordinary beauty! Footsie said she must have fell out of an ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down…we surmised this was the reason that Snooks was drunk all the time!  

Boogers mom made him baby sit his younger brother Bobby almost everyday. Bobby was a little brat who was not too smart but was tolerated only because of Boogers friendship!  He grew up to be a real big dumb ass when he robbed the local bank and was cornered by the police in a dead end alley and arrested!  As kids, we had roamed all the alleys of downtown Wood River and knew every niche and cranny by heart!  Bobby indeed turned out to be a complete fool who evidently had lost his sense of direction and had forgotten that specific alley was dead-end which resulted in a long prison term for him!

In the summer of 1949 there were families with many kids living in our neighborhood!  NuNu and I mostly hung around with Booger Foster and Russell Owens.  Russell lived in the next door tenement building.  Most of the time, we usually looked for things just to get into trouble with.  We would openly pilfer empty soda bottles, old car batteries and anything else to sell for enough money to go to the movies and buy a box of  hot buttered popcorn with a box of old hard ju-ju fruit candy!
Booger Foster was an extraordinary person with not much direction and very little hygiene…if any!  He rarely combed his hair, wore a pair of glasses as thick as the bottoms of Coke bottles and was always picking his nose!  Therefore, we nick-named and called him Booger!  Booger had the strongest set of kidneys and bladder capacity of anyone we had ever seen!  Amongst us, we would have urinating contests and Booger always won, using no hands!  He could piss farther and for a longer period of time than anyone in Wood River! 

NuNu and I had become very creative and figured out how to cash in on this tremendous talent that Booger seemed to possess!  Not only did we know every street and alley in downtown Wood River, we were also very familiar with the roof-tops of all the downtown businesses as well!

When we were ready to transact some business, we would say, “Hey Booger, lets go make some easy money tonight!?”  

He’d look at you through his double thick glasses, stick his finger in his nose and give you his possum-eating grin and yell, “When…what time…lets go!” 

In the beginning of our little business scheme, we would have Booger drink at least a quart of water to load and re-enforce his kidneys to enhance his bladder capacity for superior results of endurance and distance!  As our business blossomed and flourished Booger felt he had become the ‘Star’ attraction and therefore became more demanding of certain amenities for himself!  Instead of just drinking a quart of water, we now had to furnish him with a cold bottle of Nehi cream soda for his pleasure before every engagement!  Booger claimed the cold Nehi cream soda lubricated his innards and therefore made him much more accurate and dependable!  He sometimes forgot that NuNu and I were the brains behind our business endeavors and as the front-men had to take all the abuse from our unsuspecting clients!  Also, we had to suffer from the collateral damage of Booger’s erroneous and misdirected overspray!

Our business plan was simply this; our production crew would climb upon the roof of a down-town tavern overlooking the front entrance with ‘Booger’ standing ten to fifteen feet back from the edge of the roof!  As the inebriated patrons would exit the tavern, NuNu and I would position ourselves at the very front edge of the roof, lean over and yell, “Hey Mister, if you don’t throw a quarter up to us, we’re going to piss all over you!!”  

Some of our selected clients would throw us up a quarter as they thought what we said was creative and humorous but not life threatening!  For those who elected not to invest in our business scheme, we would signal Booger to “let ‘er go!! 

To see Booger prepare himself for this challenging event was like poetry in motion along with the timing of a Swiss clock!  He would belch, roll his eyes upwards, slightly bend his knees and lean backwards at the waist to achieve maximum range! It was simply amazing how far out he could urinate while laughing and spraying those below at the same time!  The targets would look up and yell, “I’m calling the cops and you little heathens are going to jail!!”

  We’d laugh like hyenas and run across the roof tops all the way down to the end of the block and climb down, walk back up the street like nothing had ever happened! 

Solock Ketcherdorf

There never seemed to be a dull moment while living on Madison Avenue!  It seemed that Footsie had never met a landlord that he liked and Solock Ketcherdorf, our present landlord, was no exception!  Solock and Footsie were big men and were always at each others throats over the smallest thing! 

Solock was a big Russian-Armenian who liked to drink more than his share of alcohol who could intimidate as many people as Footsie could!  So it was only a matter of time and inevitable they would eventually clash under the right circumstances! 

On a particular hot sweltering summer weekend, mixed with alcohol and inflated self egos, would set the stage for the proverbial showdown at high noon!  NuNu and I was visiting on the second floor rear porch watching as Footsie approached from the front of the tenement around the side yard toward the back alley on his way to the downtown area for more to drink!  Solock was already drunk and had been in the back yard trying to stay cool from the hot summer heat, just lounging and looking for something to get mad about…his wish was just seconds away!

As Footsie rounded the rear corner of the building, Solock saw him and yelled, “Hey Arkie, you no good’a sons-a-bitch’a, you no live’a back’a here…you live’a up’a the front, so you no walk’a through here!”  

Footsie replied defiantly, “Solock, y’alls just a big dumb foreign ‘pile of crap’ and y’all is not big enough to keep me from walking to wherever I wants to go!”

Then, Solock yelled and run toward my dad saying, “I don’na like-a you Arkie and I gonna kick’a you big’a ass!”

They started fist-fighting and rolling around on the ground while cussing at each other between gasps and panted breaths!  Footsie finally got the better of Solock and had him down while hitting him with his fists!  Solock grabbed Footsies hand and bit into it like a piece of raw meat!  Footsie yelled out in pain and pulled back!  Solock then escaped of what would have been a real good old fashion whipping administered by Footsie! As Solock ran into his rear apartment, he yelled back over his shoulder, “Arkie, I get’a my gun and shoot’a ya big’a ass!”

Footsie was no fool and probably had somewhat sobered up with all the physical activity he had just endured! As NuNu and I stood watching from the second floor rear porch, he turned and run around to the front of the building where we lived!  Solock came out of his apartment with his gun and peered around the rear corner of the building!  About the same time, Footsie reappeared looking around front corner of the building armed with his pistol! 

They commenced shooting at each other…we thought we were at the movies watching a gun-fight at the O.K. Corral! Our sister Alice and little brother Jack had been playing in the side yard and was inadvertently caught in the middle of the crossfire…they quickly hunkered down to dodge the firefight whereas not be hit! NuNu and I were situated right above where Solock was standing and firing his gun toward Footsie!  For a fleeting moment, we had the idea to drop some empty glass milk bottles down on Solock’s head to divert his attention, but in the event we should miss there was no escape route!  We decided not to do that and ducked down as bullets continued to fly everywhere!

Finally they were out of ammunition and someone called the Police!  The Police Station was just a block away and the Officers arrived when the excitement and shooting was over and arrested both men.  Footsie was kept in jail for a few hours to sober up and was released as the Police surmised he was only acting in self-defense!  Solock was released a few days later.  No further incidents occurred between the two while we lived there as Footsie stayed around in the front where we lived and Solock stayed in the rear where he lived!

Entrepreneurship and Other Misdeeds

Nu-Nu and I also had other business interests including that of shoe shine boys!  We claimed downtown Wood River as our rightful territory!  However, the older “Italian” boys from Little Italy liked to bully and intimidate us…we were always at odds with them over territorial business rights!  We were very good shoe shiners and were welcome in most taverns to make our rounds!  Most adult men wore silk socks and would become very upset if you got shoe polish on them!  Sometimes a customer would be so drunk he could’nt keep his foot on the shoe pedestal making it difficult not to get polish on his socks!  I eventually became the resident shoe shine and clean up boy at Braves Barber Shop on Ferguson Avenue.  Braves eventually become Thorpe’s Barber Shop where, later as adults, NuNu and I got our haircuts for a number of years.

On hot days, we would frequent the Wood River swimming pool located between the high school and the Round House on Wood River Avenue.  Alton did not have a public swimming pool so people from Alton would ride the trolley to Wood River to swim and indulge in our enjoyment as well!  However, the trolley station was located in Little Italy resulting in a long walk to reach the pool for the out of town visitors.  For extra entertainment, we would float dog turds in the pool just to get reactions and squeals from the girls and our unwelcomed guests from Alton!

We were daily scavengers in the downtown alleys.  Our favorite dumpsters were behind the grocery and drug stores.  More than once, we found some old wormy cigars in the dumpster behind Reese’s Drug Store! We re-packaged them putting the best ones on top!  We took our new found wares to the local taverns for resale and hopefully a monetary return for our hard work!  Poppa Jimmy, of Jimmy’s Tavern, always bought the bulk of them!  It was a win-win situation for everyone as his unsuspecting customers smoked them and never complained about the worms…the worms never complained either!  He made a profit and we made a profit…Capitalism was great!

We were also pin-setters at the old Wood River Bowling Alley located in the basement of a furniture store across from the Mid-Town movie theater on Ferguson Avenue.  We set pins using the old manual operated pin-setters and were paid ten cents a game!  We would often have our fingers crushed and bruised when the pin-setter on the adjoining alley would inadvertently hit our fingers with his ball as we simultaneously used the same ball return! Whenever there was a shortage of pin-setters, we would set double alleys.  This was always a challenge as you had to really hustle, especially when two bowlers would throw their balls at the same time on adjoining alleys!

At 61 East Madison Avenue, our front door opened directly out onto the sidewalk which seemed to be an open invitation for drunks to knock on it day and night. There were at least six taverns located in a two square block area from where we lived.  As mentioned earlier, Footsie could be very intimidating to a lot of people and subsequently made enemies when he made his tavern rounds!  When both he and mom would go out at night, they would leave me home to baby-sit with NuNu and our younger brothers and sisters.  Invariably, while they would be gone, dad’s detractors would pound on the front door yelling,

“Arkie, we’re going to kill you and your family!” 

If Footsie had been home, they would never have had the nerve to do that!  However, being just a young boy, these episodes were very tense and scary!  I would hide my younger brothers and sisters under the beds and get a butcher knife for our protection!  Under these circumstances I was much too young for this responsibility but was not given any options!

As we often times got into trouble with the Police, NuNu and I were somewhat well known by the authorities at the station house.  The Police Station was located on the corner of Madison and Wood River Avenue, next to where the water tower now sits.  Whenever NuNu and I would become featured guests of the local law enforcement agency, Hess Perrigan the Chief of Police, would send word down the street to our parents that we were being detained!  Mom would immediately come to the station and argue that whatever we were suspected of had to be false and erroneous! 

Mom would argue and say, “Why Mr. Perrigan, my boys are good boys and would never do anything that you have described!”

Hess Perrigan lean back, smile coyly and say, “Mrs. Watkins, I know these boys of yours to be good boys--that’s why I sent for you to come and get them!”

Hess Perrigan was a good old boy who, down deep, really liked and cared for us.  But sometimes enough was enough…even for Hess Perrigan!  He also knew Footsie would whip us unmercifully when he came home!

To help alleviate the juvenile delinquency in town, Hess Perrigan had a brain storm and started a Junior G-men Club.  NuNu and I were invited to join!  At the time we thought this to be a very good idea until the rules were explained to us!  We were empowered and expected to report any crime that we might observe!?  This ploy meant that if we committed an offense, we were obligated to report ourselves to the Police! 

As young baseball fans and followers of the St. Louis Cardinals, we had never personally played in an organized baseball game… at that time; Little League baseball was unheard of!  The Police Department decided that the Junior G-men should have their own baseball team with NuNu and I invited to participate as players…I was now 12 years old and NuNu was ten!  NuNu had more natural ability than I did and quickly become a good ball player while I had to practice continuously to become be a decent player! A Police Sergeant took a liking to me and practiced with me at the side of the Police Station almost every day.  This helped strengthen my throwing arm and helped to keep me off the streets most of the time!?  To my recollection, we never played a game, just practiced a lot! 

Nevertheless, NuNu and I decided we wanted to have a real team that would play actual baseball games and not just practice!  We put our heads together and formulated a new business venture!  We solicited local businesses for donations and bought baseball tee shirts with the team name printed on them…we called our team the Wood River Jets!  I was in the seventh grade and NuNu was in the sixth grade at Lewis and Clark Junior High School.  We would proudly wear our new jerseys to school where we were envied and looked upon very favorably by the other kids…most of them now wanted to become a member of the now famous Wood River Jets!  However, we had collected more money than was needed!  We quickly called an executive meeting and voted overwhelmingly to use the surplus reserve for other company expenses, such as movies and entertainment for us…once again, democracy reigned!

Tornado

On a Sunday afternoon in 1949, NuNu and I had raised enough money through one of our enterprising projects; we decided to attend a matinee movie at the Wood River Theater!  When the movie was over, we exited from the south side door…it was very muggy and ungodly hot!  The low clouds appeared to be roiling to and fro with an eerie dark black color outlined with a greenish hue!  It looked like a storm was brewing and we decided to get home at once!  As we were hurriedly walking to our house on Madison Avenue, there seemed to be a strong smell of sulphur permeating the air which appeared to be very different and strange to us! 

When we arrived home, Uncle Goldie’s 1926 Chevrolet was parked in front of our tenement building giving an indication that Aunt Christine and her family had come to visit for the day!  They had already been to the corner tavern and had brought back a couple of cold buckets of beer that would undoubtedly aid them in any forthcoming important conversations! 

The wind started to blow very hard and all the younger kids were finally rounded up and accounted for!  I ran to the front window and observed a very large black storm cloud churning and hugging low to the ground coming directly at us across the Standard Oil Refinery that sounded like a freight train!  Footsie was trying to close the front door and could’nt because of the severe wind and atmospheric pressure! With his eyes bugging out, he was yelling to everyone, “cyclone…cyclone, y’all take cover!”

          I looked out the window at Uncle Goldie’s car and the strong wind had turned it completely around!  I looked up in the sky and saw big trees just floating in the air like feathers!  It seemed that I was under a hypnotic spell and could’nt force myself to move away from the window! 

          The Tornado continued its path directly toward us and as it got within a few hundred yards the pressure of the vortex completely collapsed a big oil storage tank! At that moment, the funnel cloud veered and turned ninety degrees easterly toward the direction of Sixth Street and beyond!  The tornado razed and devastated a corridor east on Madison Avenue, past Sixth Street and onto the Brushy Grove area where many homes were destroyed with innocent people killed!  It completely destroyed a mobile home park, twisting and cutting the trailer units apart like a giant can-opener that had run amok!

          After the danger had passed us, the adults felt their nerves needed to be steadied and sought out the cold buckets of beer for assistance in this matter!  However, they were much too late!  In the throes of disaster and without realizing it, Aunt Christine had chug-a-lugged both buckets of beer leaving not a drop for anyone else!  Compared to the reactions of the beer deprived men, the tornado proved to be just a breeze!

          Heavy rains followed the tornados devastation and flooded Madison Avenue and other low lying areas!  Dad’s brother, Uncle Donald, heard about the tornado on the radio and come to Wood River from Alton to check on our welfare.  Needless to say, the power lines were down with no electricity and the drinking water was declared non-potable.  Our entire family had to live with Dad’s sister, Lola, and her family north on Wood River Avenue next to the old ice plant until the flood waters subsided.  After about three or four days the water receded and I think Aunt Lola and Uncle Harry were glad to see us go home…I know we were glad!

          We continued living at 61 East Madison Avenue for awhile longer until Footsie received an insurance settlement related to Sister Alice’s untimely accident that happened some months prior!  This financial windfall enabled him to buy a property which had been leveled by the tornado leaving only the basement and a big pile of nail filled lumber in the yard!  We moved into that basement with hope that our lives would become more secure, enhanced and normal! 

          Now in our old ages, NuNu and I have revisited several times the old neighborhood of 61 East Madison Avenue where we had once lived, scavenged for food and played during our childhood. The Police Station, taverns and tenements have all been razed and turned into a public parking lot!  Nevertheless, the visits still bring back many memories and voices echoing of the past!  We have also question ourselves, would we have done anything differently….probably not!?

By W.W. Watkins

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