Saturday, October 30, 2010

The Hobo On 85th Street ~ 1960

Halloween night 1960 ~ Rory, Mom, Nan Ryan & me visited my Aunt Joan's apartment at 321 East 85th Street. Rory was a Cat & I was a Hobo. We bought my Bum mask for 39 cents at Woolworth's and raided my grandfather's old clothes for my costume when he went out for a walk. He didn't miss a thing, as predicted by my grandmother.

321 was a usual haunt for Mom, Rory & me. Mom visited her sisters, Joan & Barbara, two to three times a week. Counting my two grandmothers, I had five mothers.

The now pictures are all of 321 East 85th Street's stoop this past week. As you can see, hardly anything has changed in 50 years, including, I still dress like a hobo.

That's Alison in her Halloween ghost costume in 1988. Here's a silly poem I wrote for her years ago.

“Dungarees be Free!”

Hot summer night, a run on the track.

Fear struck hard! I turned my back.

Adjusting my eyes to see what was there,

A little fat man with long green hair.

“My debt I’ll collect,” he snarled at me.

I proceeded to run up the nearest tree.

“I have all night you may as well come down.”

Before he finished his remark, I fell to the ground.

'What do you want, leave me alone!"

Knelling over me, I smelled his cheap cologne.

“You borrowed my jeans and I want them back!”

“They're dungarees, they are not slacks!

You’re a fruitcake I don’t own any jeans.

Go far away your breath stinks like beans."

I rushed home, as he jumped up & down.

“You’ll never be safe. I’m not leaving town.”


My Halloween story, "The Ghost that Haunted the Basement," is in this week's Our Town newspaper. If you like the story, please leave a comment at the paper's web site. Thank you, Tommy

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