Author: 610rrandtr

There will be a brief quiz just after lunch, so pay attention. In order for my tales of woe and mirth to flow as smoothly as a summer Hershey, I gotta lay out some facts for y’all. And now, our overture: First, we start with Rich Town. Rich Town was built on the fortunes of… Continue reading A brief Irreverent Geography Lesson

also named ‘Slats” This one was a Belgian Sheepdog mix. Around the same size as the first one, but this one had a different temperament. He loved to run, craved action like a Marvel hero. And smart as the proverbial whip. The old man showed him just once how to run to the front porch,… Continue reading The Second Dog

Alright, children, everybody sit down. Catherine, you’re late. Take your seat! And you, Jimmy in the back row, pay attention! Now, first you need a bully. And in the late sixties, they were a dime a dozen. Most of them made their mark with empty threats and subtle physical intimidation. The hot air ones just… Continue reading How to deflate a Bully

Who knew? I mentioned earlier that the basketball hoop in the playground changed everything. Here’s why. All dwellings in the lower regions of middle earth had small driveways, and the higher numbers on my street were on a steep hill. Few had basketball hoops attached to garages, due to thin driveways and most of them… Continue reading Just One Basketball Hoop

Let’s tie this thread up…. I said child, child staring into the streetlightMessed up child lonely boy tonightKick the wall turn the street and back againOh boy you’ve been forgotten The old man began silencing the TV at night, then sitting at the kitchen table with a calculator, counting his money just like Scrooge–how much… Continue reading After the trauma….

“I Guess you want to go show off your bike to your friends.” Not exactly, dickhead. But I smiled and rode off. But instead of the playground, I went to the deserted elementary school I had just left a few days ago. There, I sat down and cried like never before. Real body-shaking, dripping tears,… Continue reading Strike 3 (part 3)

We could build cell on cell/Mainline him straight to hell/But that would not dispel violent men, hardheaded women/Unloved Children Act 2 takes place here (Wolvertons): long torn down I had to think fast. No way to change the future, I was an inmate. Must smile, be the best actor anyone ever saw. A few days… Continue reading Strike 3 (Part 2)

Our theme song for this bloodbath (I love you Tommy): It was June, sixth grade had just finished. My grandmother had been dead for almost a year. My bike was two years old. The old man came home and after dinner, said to me, “How would you like a new bike? “No,” I said. “I… Continue reading The Final Strike (Part One)

Sorry, gotta ‘get real’ for a sec I will be telling a sobering story in the next few posts. There’s no humor here; no laughing at my father the buffoon. This will be the completion of the ‘three strikes’ on daddy. It’s a tale of mental abuse and lasting damage. After this, he was not… Continue reading Announcement about next posts

I can hear you now: ‘WTF is this boomer talking about??” Fiction was king in the 60’s. No, I’m not talking about fictional tabloid stories about the English monarchy or Hollywood actresses. I mean books. JFK even endorsed Ian Fleming’s Bond novels. There have always been English crime novels, led of course by the prolific… Continue reading The Hardy Boys