109 East Arch Street
(Moving to a new home, Summer of 1957)
My mother woke me and my brother up. I stood half asleep in the dark. I was near ten years old then, my brother Mike, two years older. I felt for my cloths, it was not quite first light yet, I couldn’t find the string to the ceiling light, so I opened the bedroom door, and the light from the kitchen lit up the bedroom some. I knew Grandpa had bought a new house, and we were moving today, the city was going to tare down all the houses on Mount Airy Hill, make a housing project out of the area.
“Don’t turn the light on,” my brother moaned, “I’ll kill you if you do.” And he fell back to sleep.
“Are you boys awake in there?” my mother said the second time, with an abnormal whisper, just above a whisper.
“Yes.” I said. Mike was still under the covers, “Wake up!” I said to him “Leave me alone,” he grumbled. “Maws making breakfast, I can hear her.” I told him.
“All right, if you boys aren’t out here in three minutes, no breakfast because we’re moving today, and I am not going to be cooking later on, not until dinner…” Maw said.
I stood by the edge of the bed and wanted to tickle Mike’s feet, that would wake him, I told myself, but he’d get so ornery and he’d hit me, although I could run faster than him, he was a little cubby. But the more I thought about it, I figured I’d get the first helping of the breakfast, and that was always the best. So I left him alone.
“Tie you shoes, you’re going to trip over them shoelaces,” said maw as I walked into the kitchen, looking like a scarecrow.
“I’m all ready.” I said.
“How about your brother, we’ll not be eating all day until dinner time around four o’clock, you better get him up?”
“He doesn’t listen to me!” I said with a high squeaking voice, I wanted to eat breakfast, “where we moving to?” I asked.
“Oh, not too far from here, about a mile on down the road, on a street called Cayuga Street,” said my mother.
The window shutter was up in the kitchen, and the sun was just coming over the horizon now. The kitchen table was against the window, because the kitchen was so small, and the stove was white and green, and pert near touched the ceiling, made of cast iron.
“Well, you eat first and then go wake you brother up again. Eat all you can, you’ll be hungry otherwise by noon.”
I ate and ate and ate, then my mother said, “Here eat another egg, and gave me another piece of toast, and I put some Peter Pan, peanut butter on it. And I got out another quart of milk, and it was warm the dry ice had melted, in the bottom of the ice box.
“Want another pancake?” asked my mother. I was mighty full, and she burnt the edges of the pancake with bacon fat, and I liked it that way, and I didn’t want Mike to get it, so I said yes, but I should have said no, I was really full. But I knew we were going away, and we’d not eat until dinner and perhaps later than normal dinner.
I look about the kitchen, I’d miss the old house, I told myself.
“Well,” said mother, “are you going to go wake your brother or what?”
“I think so,” I commented, “I was just thinking all the fun I had here, I hate to move.”
“Yes, I know,” she said, “It’s hard for me also, but grandpa is being forced to move, it’s the city you know. Try to keep out of the way when the men are working today, you can help a little if you want.” She lit a cigarette, poured herself a cup of coffee; she liked coffee an awful lot, strong with milk and lots of sugar, and started to eat some bacon she had put on a smaller plate than mine, with her fingers, waiting to serve Mike.
“Now you go wake up your brother before the food gets cold,” she said in a sterner voice. “Then when the men get here, stay outdoors and out of their way unless they need you and your brother to do something.”
I went back into the dinning room; grandpa was getting up, I noticed he had turned on the gas space heater in the living room. My brother was still curled up under the white sheets and light wool blanket. I pulled the covers over his feet, and I looked down at them as if they were big hamsters, his arches looked like valleys and his big toe like a mouse sticking his head out of a hole. Then I opened the door to make a quick getaway, and started ticking both his feet in those valley’s and he jumped up a mile, pert near hit the hanging string to the ceiling light, so it appeared, and I ran like the Lone Ranger to where grandpa was and pretended nothing was wrong.
“Is that you making all that noise in there, Mike?” said mother.
“I’m coming, I’m coming, that brat son of yours just tickled me, and I’ll get him later.”
“I told him to wake you up, just leave him alone, and get out here and eat!” Said maw, hearing grandpa was up and no longer talking in loud whisper, but in her normal voice.
“Why do we have to go?” I heard Mike say to mother.
“I don’t know,” she said. “We just do.”
No: 635 (6-20-2010)
(Moving to a new home, Summer of 1957)
My mother woke me and my brother up. I stood half asleep in the dark. I was near ten years old then, my brother Mike, two years older. I felt for my cloths, it was not quite first light yet, I couldn’t find the string to the ceiling light, so I opened the bedroom door, and the light from the kitchen lit up the bedroom some. I knew Grandpa had bought a new house, and we were moving today, the city was going to tare down all the houses on Mount Airy Hill, make a housing project out of the area.
“Don’t turn the light on,” my brother moaned, “I’ll kill you if you do.” And he fell back to sleep.
“Are you boys awake in there?” my mother said the second time, with an abnormal whisper, just above a whisper.
“Yes.” I said. Mike was still under the covers, “Wake up!” I said to him “Leave me alone,” he grumbled. “Maws making breakfast, I can hear her.” I told him.
“All right, if you boys aren’t out here in three minutes, no breakfast because we’re moving today, and I am not going to be cooking later on, not until dinner…” Maw said.
I stood by the edge of the bed and wanted to tickle Mike’s feet, that would wake him, I told myself, but he’d get so ornery and he’d hit me, although I could run faster than him, he was a little cubby. But the more I thought about it, I figured I’d get the first helping of the breakfast, and that was always the best. So I left him alone.
“Tie you shoes, you’re going to trip over them shoelaces,” said maw as I walked into the kitchen, looking like a scarecrow.
“I’m all ready.” I said.
“How about your brother, we’ll not be eating all day until dinner time around four o’clock, you better get him up?”
“He doesn’t listen to me!” I said with a high squeaking voice, I wanted to eat breakfast, “where we moving to?” I asked.
“Oh, not too far from here, about a mile on down the road, on a street called Cayuga Street,” said my mother.
The window shutter was up in the kitchen, and the sun was just coming over the horizon now. The kitchen table was against the window, because the kitchen was so small, and the stove was white and green, and pert near touched the ceiling, made of cast iron.
“Well, you eat first and then go wake you brother up again. Eat all you can, you’ll be hungry otherwise by noon.”
I ate and ate and ate, then my mother said, “Here eat another egg, and gave me another piece of toast, and I put some Peter Pan, peanut butter on it. And I got out another quart of milk, and it was warm the dry ice had melted, in the bottom of the ice box.
“Want another pancake?” asked my mother. I was mighty full, and she burnt the edges of the pancake with bacon fat, and I liked it that way, and I didn’t want Mike to get it, so I said yes, but I should have said no, I was really full. But I knew we were going away, and we’d not eat until dinner and perhaps later than normal dinner.
I look about the kitchen, I’d miss the old house, I told myself.
“Well,” said mother, “are you going to go wake your brother or what?”
“I think so,” I commented, “I was just thinking all the fun I had here, I hate to move.”
“Yes, I know,” she said, “It’s hard for me also, but grandpa is being forced to move, it’s the city you know. Try to keep out of the way when the men are working today, you can help a little if you want.” She lit a cigarette, poured herself a cup of coffee; she liked coffee an awful lot, strong with milk and lots of sugar, and started to eat some bacon she had put on a smaller plate than mine, with her fingers, waiting to serve Mike.
“Now you go wake up your brother before the food gets cold,” she said in a sterner voice. “Then when the men get here, stay outdoors and out of their way unless they need you and your brother to do something.”
I went back into the dinning room; grandpa was getting up, I noticed he had turned on the gas space heater in the living room. My brother was still curled up under the white sheets and light wool blanket. I pulled the covers over his feet, and I looked down at them as if they were big hamsters, his arches looked like valleys and his big toe like a mouse sticking his head out of a hole. Then I opened the door to make a quick getaway, and started ticking both his feet in those valley’s and he jumped up a mile, pert near hit the hanging string to the ceiling light, so it appeared, and I ran like the Lone Ranger to where grandpa was and pretended nothing was wrong.
“Is that you making all that noise in there, Mike?” said mother.
“I’m coming, I’m coming, that brat son of yours just tickled me, and I’ll get him later.”
“I told him to wake you up, just leave him alone, and get out here and eat!” Said maw, hearing grandpa was up and no longer talking in loud whisper, but in her normal voice.
“Why do we have to go?” I heard Mike say to mother.
“I don’t know,” she said. “We just do.”
No: 635 (6-20-2010)
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