The town drunk

 

When I was eight years old the folks took me to a football game at Hathenrock High School. My older brother played clarinet in the band, so in the support of him and the local high school we all sat in the bleachers and watched Hathenrock play Paramus High. 

It was a fun game, highlighted by the Paramus half-back who ran the wrong way and scored a safety for our team. At the game an older man kept standing up and shouting "Rah rah Paramus" in the middle of the home team stands. I asked my mother who he was. 

"Oh, he's just the town drunk. Don't pay any attention to him",   I was informed by dear Ma ma. For the first time in my life I met up with a town drunk. I was so proud of my home town. We had a swell hospital, a swell high school band, a winning team, and our very own town drunk. 

The bicycle rack was good

 Here's an anecdote from my other blog which is about my time as a Junior Leader in the 6th grade. 

I missed Woodstock

https://hardtimesmrmustache.blogspot.com/2019/08/i-missed-woodstock.html

Mr. Leech

On rare occasions as a high school student my father would invite me to go the museum where he worked. Perhaps my mother wanted to get rid of me during my school vacation or perhaps my father wanted to instill in me the joys of being an adult in the working world.

I did get a walk around the place and got to see an expert art restorer, Mr. Leech, at work. He had a painting and he was working with a cleanser and seemed to make the colors much brighter.

On snowy days when the buses weren't running I remember him calling the house. He lived in the Garden State like us and he was probably calling to ask dear old dad for a ride. He must have been in his eighties and I could hear his raspy German accent. Like all people who answer the phone and realize it is an unwanted call I had a distinct joy in my voice as I said, "Dad, it's Mr. Leech!"

Mr. Leech had a special cake he gave us every year. It was called a "poor man's cake" and apparently it was a vestige from the war when butter and eggs were not available. We ate it every Christmas.

I asked the old man why he gave us this treat every year. "It's because I always give him his check the day before pay day". The advantages of being an accountant.

Editor's note: Now available is my first Kindle book.

Snow days

Here is a post about being a kid and getting a snow day.

The man who knew Huncke

This is a blog I wrote for my Hard Times blog but I thought some of you might find entertaining, although it is definitely 1970s. It is an embellished version of how I moved to Denver.

the Eclipse of July 1963

As a kid, I always listened to what I was told, especially on the radio and TV. I remember I heeded all the warnings and hid in the basement one Saturday in July of 1963. The story was if you so much as glimpsed at the sun during that fateful afternoon you would be blinded for life.

My father and older brother somehow missed the advice. They were working on a trellis in the front yard when they noticed the sun looking weird.

"Look up at the sky!" my brother yelled. My father looked up. Several of the neighbors looked up.

"Doesn't the sun look weird!" my father said. They came and told me after the eclipse was over. I hate to admit it but I was a little disappointed that I wasn't the only sighted one in the family after that. Rather, things went on normally.

Editor's note: Don't look up at the sky on the 21st without the right eye ware. Prudence is the better part of valor.