11,975. RUDIMENTS, pt. 772

RUDIMENTS, pt. 772

(faded glory indeed)

I never had any real

followers though

sometimes it felt like

I did. There wouldn't

have been any real reason

for it, but at either end of

my block, in Elmira, there

were little girls  -  each

about 10 years old  -  who

were somehow fascinated

by me. It was weird, and

they each kept separate from

each other, and were quite

different, each, too. One of

them, I knew her mother, and

my wife was friends too. She

was always offering us, in the

mid-70's, something called

Blue Nun. I'd never even heard

of it before, but she, on her

little deck platform in the back,

was always sitting out there

and calling us over. And, yes,

offering Blue Nun. She lived

alone there, with Edria, the

girl-daughter I mentioned.

All Edria ever did was stare;

occasionally she talked some.

I don't remember the mother's

name, but I recall I helped her

once with something, a car

problem I think. She lived in

an older green-painted wood

house, at the corner, facing

Washington Street, and the

Washington School. Up from

there, at that time, was the

bar called The Branch Office.

You may remember a very early

post-reference to that as the spot

my father-in-law delighted in

because, if you caught the red

light just right, the neon sign was

partially blocked and only read

as The Bra Off. That was his

big Elmira joke. Next to that

was a record store, and there

was also, right there, a smaller

sized bowling alley, maybe

15 lanes, and a 7-11. It was

a happening corner, and the

college crowd frequented the

area, Elmira College being 

right there too. We were

about 5 houses over from 

all that, but it was pretty

quiet. Mid-'70's versions

of crazy-college stuff was

sedate around there. Up the 

ramp and over the tracks,

there really was a biker bar,

which  -  again in the 70's, but

in the opposite manifestation,

had some real ornery cats. For

someone like me, not even

recognizing 'Blue Nun' it was

all a strange world. What the

heck is that stuff anyway?

The other girl, Linda something

or other, she lived in a small,

new, dropped-in house at the end

of the street, on that end. It was

a tiny version of a 'ranch' style

house  -  one low level, not

much going on. There was an

industrial plumbing storage 

yard next to it. This girl never 

talked, but she'd slowly walk 

up the street, on the sidewalk, 

and just watch from the house

next to ours. And then, lo and

behold, one day she started

talking, a blue streak (speaking

of blue), about her family and

her brother, and regular home 

stuff. Kind'a weird. I figured 

both these girls would be soon

growing up, and I always

wondered what they'd remember

about those odd days and curious

periods of their lives. You

probably wonder what it was

that I was doing to make all

this so interesting for them. Well,

nothing really - one time I was 

making a gate for the rear,

fenced yard (we'd gotten a dog),

another time, the storage shelf

thing up in my garage, old, had

gave out and things fell everywhere.

I had some clean-up and rebuilding

to do there. It wasn't so much what 

I was doing, I don't think; moreso

was the fact that I was doing

anything  -  I think that's what 

attracted them. It seemed the 

deadest and quietest block in 

the world  -  no one ever seemed

to be about, or to do anything,

except maybe shovel snow. The

immediate neighbor to our left

was some 70-year old couple,

Italians, out of Paterson, NJ.

He was always going on to me

about the history of the old

Paterson Silk Mill Strikes and

riots. He was a teen then, had

a job there, and got battered 

around too, he said, by the cops,

billy clubs, and strikebreaker

hired-thugs to brought in to beat

down the strikers. From what

he said, it was all pretty brutal

stuff. I learned a lot though, and

I always followed his  stories up

with factual-research. It was

a rich period, Paterson back then.

The Paterson Pageant, the NYC

Emma Goldman, Reds and 

commies; much history, violence, 

deaths, and hard times. It was
funny because now in the later-life
period of time he was in, all he most
ever did was sit on in his rear yard
on a chair next to a phonograph or
something listening to songs, Lots
of older Italian stuff, often, with
this little dog they had. And then  -
it never  failed  -  in the middle of
all that he'd play a Fleetwood
Mac album, 'Rumours' or
whatever it was, I forget. The
one with 'Rhiannon' on it. And
sometimes he'd repeat it too.
That Summer's soundtrack, to 
me, was presented by him, and
included that girl singer often.
It was a rare and odd shot of
life from some old guy
otherwise winding down.
-

The other side of us was some

black guy who was a fancy chef

in one of Elmira's big restaurants.

They were still around, I guess 

from the old days, but it was

all over, and they were fading

fast. There was no real money

left in that town. Faded Glory,

indeed.