This is an ongoing musical memoir. If you are just wandering onto this page and didn’t see the first four chapters of “Blues, Preludes & Feuds,” please read those first:
Prelude
4’33”..
…of Silence
Part 1:
Chapter 1: Middle C is Not
Chapter 2: Prepare to Wing It
Chapter 3: Drugstore at the End of the World
Chapter 4: The Myth of the Electric Organ
Chapter 5: Pax Chicagoa
Chapter 6: Terrorist Recess
Chatper 7: Asymmetrical Warfare
Chapter 8: The Stiff-Necked Son
Chapter 9: Park on the Other Side
Chapter 10: Model Home Away from Home
There’s a creepy little costume shop just a few storefronts north on Broadway. It’s our first foray onto the forbidden street—the first place beyond the corner drugstore.
Me, David, Danny, and Jack (future restauranteur) are ready to push beyond the prescribed territory, but just a bit. This group, with occasional stragglers from the building or around the block, is our little gang. Well, not so much a gang, as the West Wellington Avenue exploratory committee, whose business is to slightly push boundaries beyond the playground and drugstore to see what might be out there.
It didn’t take long for us to figure out that if a parent isn’t watching us go to the drugstore, then they aren’t going to see us pushing into the world beyond.
But the universe expands slowly and reluctantly. The gravity that’s the safety of home pulls us back. Danny is the de facto leader of the group because he likes to live dangerously—relatively speaking. My brother, somewhat reluctantly as he will be in many things, is his lieutenant. He isn’t as bold as his classmate, but there is no way he’s going to act scared like the little babies, Jack and me.
Still, our gang is a democracy of sorts. So as we walk down Wellington toward Broadway, we debate the pros and cons.
“Nobody’s going to see us anyway,” Danny says.
“How do you know? Mom and Dad will find out,” I say.
“You’re such a little weenie whiner.” My brother laughs and pushes me into the bushes.
“Shut up! No, I’m not.”
Jack doesn’t say anything. He just looks around nervously, wiping the ever-present snot from his nose. Danny is more diplomatic than my brother—and he’s funny. He uses humor capably, as a leader of men. Not to mention his already proven boldness to swear with alacrity. So we look up to him, and ultimately, follow his lead.
“Don’t worry about it, Peter. We won’t get arrested. Accept maybe you.” Danny shoots me a look, then laughs. We turn right before any further objections can be made.
But we all take one more look, just to make sure nobody sees us. We are clearly out of line of sight from the building. It’s as if we’ve crossed through some invisible force field. There’s a rush of excitement, but also fear. We’ve broken through to the other side. Now that we’ve done it, we’re scared shitless and start running as fast as a person can run for about fifty feet—what it takes us to get to the costume shop.
We’re all giggling nervously as we enter. Presumably we’re safe here. The costume shop is lit with dark purple neon light—the sun barely reaches this part of the universe.
“Boy, are we going to be in trouble!” Jack says, forcing a laugh.
“No we’re not, you little baby. Just don’t say anything to Mom—or I’ll kick your butt,” his brother snarls.
We walk down the narrow aisles, staying close together. The place is packed to the ceiling with ghoulish masks, plus a few political figures (also ghoulish). I’d just seen President Johnson on the TV, announcing that he wouldn’t seek a second full term. I had no idea what that meant, but there he was, hanging next to what might be VP Humphrey. And Tricky Dick.
We’re halfway down the aisle when a giant plastic wall hanging suddenly lights up red and purple. “Hoo hoo ha hah hah hah hah,” it bellows in a deep voice. We all jump, startled, banging into each other. The store proprietor appears—Wizard of Oz-like—from behind a black velour curtain in the back.
“Can I help you boys?”
“Nah, just looking,” Danny says nonchalantly.
“Well, don’t look too much. It ain’t good for the merchandise,” he laughs, then disappears back behind his curtain. We’re suitably creeped out and make a hasty tour through the rest of the store before heading back into the bright sunlight.
And there, timing their appearance perfectly, are two older Puerto Rican kids, sauntering down Broadway. Seeing that we just came out of the costume shop, they make faces at us—one pulls his mouth wide with his index fingers and sticks out his tongue, while the other sticks his thumbs in his ears and wiggles his fingers.
It’s as if they knew we were already scared by the little horror shop scene inside and just wanted to add to the effect. We jump again, looking up and down Broadway, before heading back toward the corner to run home.
I think about crossing the street and taking refuge in the drugstore. We may have stolen candy from him, but the pharmacist knows us and will protect us, right? But David and Danny—both older and faster—have already turned the corner.
The Puerto Rican kids start to chase us, shouting, “Que pequeños bebés tontas! You dumb little babies. We’re going to kick your little pussy asses!” We hear them laughing hysterically as we run down Wellington toward home.
I turn to look back and am almost run over by Jack, who is behind me. But they aren’t following us. They just stand at the corner, shaking their heads as if we’re not even worth the effort.
“Don’t come down here again. We’ll get you next time!”