My Career Path, Continued, background

Let see, where was I? Oh, yeah, making things up. I became quit the little liar, and of course you would believe me. Cause how could a little kid make all this up. And every week people would ask me if we had heard anything yet. Each week I would say, “No not this week.”

Then the unthinkable happened, my mother kept saying that she was through with my father and she would never go back to him. Well, she lied. He showed up on our door step with bags in hand and drunk. My mom took him in, got me and the kids dressed and told me to take them out and not come back for a few hours. This was in the winter. When I did come back everything was fine, we were going to move to Louisiana with my dad. No body asked me what I wanted, just that's it.

I used to do anything to be with my dad. One time my mother made him come out and play catch with me. I had been asking him for a while to play with me, he kept saying sometime but not now. Well, when my mom made him play with me he would throw the ball as hard as he could. Every time it would hit my hand it would burn throw the glove. And when I threw it back to him he would yell that I was throwing like a girl. I mean, who would want to do that again. One time we sat up all night watching a Jerry Lewis MDA Telethon. He had his gallon of whiskey and cigars, and I had Royal Crown pop and tater chips. We made some Jiffy Pop and we made fun of the guests they had on.

After we got there my parents bought a car. My mom had the learn how and get her driver's license when we were going to the base to get the food at the commissary on the Navy base. So they bought this used car. This is the first beating I remember my father giving me. I has wrote a letter to my grandmother telling her how we were doing and that they bought the car. They weren't suppose to know that we got a car because my parents owed money to them. So my father beat the hell out of me, he made me strip down to nothing in front of him. The whole time I was begging him not to beat me. I found out threw time that the longer it took me to strip down the longer he would beat me. Every time until I was sixteen he made me strip down in front of him. When I turned sixteen I said enough was enough. I had done something, or had done something, it didn't matter, I said come on. Went into my bedroom, I didn't say a thing, I stripped down, laid across my bed. When he started hitting me with the razor strap I bit my lip, but I did not cry out, with every hit it would be harder and harder. Finally he threw the belt down, told me to get dressed and come out to the dinning room. When I got out there, he looked at me and said, “I guess you think your a man now?” I knew not to say anything. Then he punched me in the stomach with his fist and said, “That's what a man gets.”

Wait, I know what your thinking, this is suppose to be a story about my career? Well, it is, but I got to put back ground in there so you know where I'm coming from.

Next I'll tell you how collecting soda bottles put spending money in my pocket...

My Career Path, Continued

Well, the last time I wrote I said tomorrow I would do a confession, so you already know that I'm a liar. Now you have to figure out when I'm lying and when I'm telling the truth. We used to say in the trucking industry that if you start out by saying, "You won't believe this." most times it's a lie or an exaggeration. But getting back to the confession, I learned that if I could spin a good enough story, and made people feel sorry for me that I would get a bigger tip, and sometimes they would fix me lunch or take me to lunch. So this is the story that I started to tell people. My dad was with the CIA and he was being held as a prisoner of war. Because he was with the CIA he didn't really exist, therefore we got no money from the government. My mom has to clean houses during the day, and I worked at night doing this delivery service, and all day Saturday. I'm not proud of this, nor am I bragging, but I made a lot of money doing what I did.
Well, next I'll tell you what happens when you take a city boy and move him to the country. Later.

Rescued From Hell

My Career Path, Continued

We would pack their bags and put them into our wagons, and either the customer would walk with you, or they would pay you and give you their address and we would take it to their house and put the bags on the front porch. Back then you didn't have to worry about someone stealing it off your front stoop or porch. Sometimes the order would be just to take it to the car, which wasn't too bad, but usually a smaller tip.
West and south of the store was where the richer people lived, good for tips. All of the east side were fair to good tips, all the north west was poorer people that lived in apartments, not too good for tips.
So my routine was to run home from school, do my homework and eat a snack. Then off to the Acme I went, I was usually there by five. I would work till they closed at 9, I made enough money to be able to bring home milk, bread, margarine, eggs, bacon, or what ever else my mom said she needed that day, oh, and cigarettes. Saturday was the best, I'd be there from 8:30 am to 10 pm. I would get two large pizzas on the way home and we'd sit and watch horror movies.
My mom would shop and cook for the whole Thompson family. We would go to the commissary at the Navel Yard in Pa. That's where all the old ships are kept in mothballs. She would keep me out of school that day and I would either stay at home with my brother and sister, or I could go along and take care of the kids while she was shopping. It depended on her mood that particular day. But she would bye enough food to feed five adults, two teenagers, and two children for a whole month. My grandmother and grandfather were paying the grocery bill, and she would have to go and clean their house twice a month. And I did what I could to help out. After I came home from work I would eat something saved from dinner, kept warm in the oven. Then I would do the dishes from the whole day. Sometimes I had to bath my brother and sister and get them into bed... Tomorrow promises a confession.

Correction From Yesterdays Blog, My Career Path

The next line of work I got into was home delivery. We had moved from New York to Upper Darby, Pa. My dad was over in Korea, and again we found ourselves without any money. Every time he went overseas, he'd find himself a Ma-mason to shack up with and we would stop getting the allotment checks.
My neighborhood was row after row after row of Row-houses, in modern day we call them Townhouses. Long Lane was where all the shops were. Oh man, I remember the butter cakes that we would get at the bakery, and everything was baked on the premises, when you walked in the door your taste buds would jump up and say, “feed me, feed me. Next door to that was the Jewish delicatessen, and over in one corner was a big wooden barrel filled with the biggest, fattest dill pickles, and yes, it was a nickel. There was a tailor, shoe maker and the candlestick maker, a movie theater that had a balcony and Saturday morning was a quarter to get in. There was always a cartoon, a short serial like the Lone Ranger, or Buck Rodgers, and then we'd see the movie. It was usually some Disney movie or Elvis Presley, beating up guys and singing to the gals. How many of you have a smile on your face right now?Come on, you KNOW what I'm talking about and if you don't, you don't know what your missing.
The other end of Long Lane was where the Acme grocery store, and that was where I had my little home delivery service. We were called baggers. We didn't work for the store, that would have been child labor. We provided our own wagons to put the bags in. We boys would line up out in front of the store with our wagons. When a register was open the next boy in line would go in and pack the shopper's bags until they got an order to take out, then the next guy moves in. The shopper could choose someone they like if they wanted to. They would tell that person before they went into shop. One of my Uncles took my wagon and reconditioned it for me, and then he painted it the most awful colors for a boy, pastel pink, green, and yellow. Talk about barfing. But he didn't tell me that those were his Shrines' colors. I didn't have time to listen to other fellows make fun of me, I was making too much money... cont.