I live in a house that’s filled with music.
I once wrote these words, in a different time and place.
I look at the stages of my life as they have been broken up.
Tewksbury-
I lived in Tewksbury when I was first born, I don’t remember much of the house, or my life within it. I know my parents lost it, and moved to Somerville in to the 2nd floor apartment above my paternal Grandmother and Grandfather.
Loring Street (the top)
My Nona, as we called my Grandmother was an amazing woman. She barely spoke English but worked her ass off as a seamstress. My Grandfather was a pedophile, philanderer, wife beater, and first class asshole, he never touched me. He was also crazy. Certainly paranoid, but I would surmise, bi-polar or borderline personality more so. We lived at the top of Loring Street in Somerville. My Grandfather by my mother’s account was a constant psychotic nuisance. Having lived in the same house with him later in life, I have no doubt believing this to be true. My mother, left my father and moved in with her adoptive mother…at the bottom of Loring Street in Somerville. Maybe 5 houses away.
Loring Street (the bottom)
My mother’s adoptive mother, was the woman I will always know as my maternal Grandmother. My Nana was a tall outspoken Irish lady. She did then and so far as I know still kicks ass. I have a sister. She was born not long before my parents divorced. She was without a doubt too young to have any memory of my birth parents being together. I have a handful, not many, none clear, but glimpses, feelings. In the spirit of being myself and not over sharing I will simply move on to my next house.
Main Street Somerville.
Right off Broadway, at the top of Winter Hill. The second floor apartment was old. So was the woman who owned it. My mother drove a 1969 Rambler Rebel station wagon. It was yellow, it rarely ran, and stalled a lot. I have a handful of memories from this apartment. Watching The Empire Strikes back, walking back from the grocery store in a snow storm because the car wouldn’t run, grilled cheese cooked with the iron, my Uncle staying with us, my sister and I hijacking the car when my mother left it running to go into the liquor store. My sister was driving while I gave directions on how to get to Child World. The first turn would have sent us down the back side of Winter hill, from Main Street towards Meadow Glen. From what I’ve been told my father told the landlady that my Uncles were my mother’s boyfriends and she was thrown out. I don’t want to try to ascertain validity. I was in Kindergarten, I went to St. Catherine’s in Somerville. My daycare was Charmagne’s I had to walk 2 blocks from St. Catherine’s to daycare after school alone, my mother was at work.
Mt. Vernon St., Arlington
Mt. Vernon St. was down the road from Bracket School. I used to walk, crossing Gray St to Robbin’s Farm, across the park and to school. This is when I began taking the bus to Vermont alone during February and April vacations. My Uncle got me my first bike, it was blue, a no name yard sale item, but it was a good bike. The kid out back took my training wheels off and I learned to ride by running and coasting with my feet off the pedals until I was comfortable enough to ride. Halfway through third grade my Nana married a guy, and they both owned a house. So we moved into an apartment in his house. Grandpa skip was a good guy. So for the other half of third, fourth, fifth, and sixth grades I was back in Somerville.
Montrose St. Somerville.
I fought a lot in Somerville. I had some good friends. I was an altar boy. There were no rapist priests at that parish so I was safe. I once skipped day camp. I went to after school, I went to Summer camp, I rode my bike all over Somerville, and wreaked havoc accordingly. My mom got remarried. We moved to Cambridge to her new husband’s mom’s house. Skip is a good guy.
Haskell St. Cambridge.
I lived on Haskell St. for 7th and 8th grade. I started working almost immediately. I got a paper route, at the Boston Globe office when it was still on Day Street right outside Davis Square. Then I started assembling the Sunday papers at the Pemberton Market, and answering phones at the Rectory for St. John’s. Again no rapist priests. Either that or they sensed that I would never be their victim. Who knows. Either was I was making money. I used to ride the 77 bus to Harvard Square every Saturday to buy comics. Usually just me, sometimes me and Paul. I had regular stops. Million Year Picnic, all the book stores, Newbury Comics, sometimes I would walk to the Americas games arcade down by Central Square then walk back to Harvard Square to take the bus home. I remember that I would always see the bus pull up on the upper floor platform and sprint up the mezzanine to catch it from the bottom of the escalators. I worked at the Cambridge License Commission between 7th and 8th grades. For 9th grade I chose to go to Matignon. A parochial school and way smaller than Rindge and Latin. My mom and Step dad bought a 2 family in Arlington, and my Birth father was arrested for fucking with his 2nd wife who he had just divorced. He was driving to her house arguing for visitation with my sister, he was stopped near the house and had an unregistered gun in the car. This was right about the time I started high school.
Highland Ave, Arlington.
I went to school, I worked, I was still delivering papers. I averaged 5 W2s every years of high school. Badger, Dolan, Parker, and Cohen, McDonalds, D’Angelos, Ames Safety Envelope, Sheepskin and Leather, Ann & Hope, White Hen Pantry, Magic Dragon, Olympic Pizza, The Globe all the way to my Senior Year, Herrel’s Ice Cream, Discount Records, I delivered comics to about a half dozen stores between Watertown and Natick. After high school I floundered, couldn’t deal with Community College, had a car, but didn’t know how to make the next step. I joined the National Guard. I did it myself. I didn’t ask my mom, I went in took the Asvab that day, talked to a recruiter alone, and signed up. I needed to get away. I was angry, and I hated everyone around me. I wonder now, despite the fact that I could always work and was always a decent employee is there wasn’t something so fucked up inside just waiting to help me unravel.
That was 16 years ago.
After Basic Training…
I worked more, Papa Ginos, Fiberspar, Friendly’s, Autozone, SeMass, Howie (laborer) Realty Development (I had a real estate license but worked on the construction crew), Moved to Maine bought a house, with my ex and my son. Landscaping (raking), More Carpentry, went back to school, delivered pizza, was a substitute teacher, more carpentry, more pizza, got hired at the Jail. Got divorced, went to jail, washed some dishes.
What the Fuck am I supposed to do now. Because I can’t for the life of me make myself move. I’m angry, I’m lost, I’m tired.
No comments:
Post a Comment