From when I was 3-1/2 years old I did the marketing. The cop on the corner crossed me back and forth across a heavily traveled street, Snyder Avenue. Well, not that heavy, there weren't many cars, but by the time I was seven I managed to get hit by one. Well, I actually hit him. (Poor guy was scared as hell. I let out a few moans just for sympathy. A few visits to the clinic fixed up my arm fine and I got a double decker ice cream cone from the driver).
I was told if an item went up a penny I argued with the grocer and occasionally won. Shopping was daily then, you know, no refrigerators or freezers, just an ice box.
True, I mostly hung out with the girls, played hop scotch, jacks and with Dixie Dugan paper dolls. Most birthday parties I attended I was the only boy. So "post office" and "spin the bottle" made me designated kisser. Somebody had to do it.
I moved on to "kick the can", "half ball", "buck buck" and many other games. If this is beginning to sound like the land of OZ, it was. Simply remember OZ was not without its challenges and my book has no place for the negatives.
We moved from the Government Subsidized housing in the Tasker Homes project to a rented home on Bancroft St., it was marvelous. My father renovated to a degree that made the landlord ecstatic, at my father's expense and labour. My father was a master barber but many other things. Jack of many trades, plumbing, electricity, masonry, carpentry, he was unstoppable.
I did have chores, marketing, emptying the water pan under the ice box, stoking the fire to heat the house with our coal furnace, taking the ashes out, cleaning the kitchen and bathroom every saturday, to earn movie money.
Haven't talked much about mom. She was a shy, quiet woman but you wouldn't want to tick her off. She was the anchor and glue that held our family together. When we needed something she always found a way and eventually we bought a house across the street from where we rented. She was sort of a magician that could make something out of nothing.
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