Following the smell of bacon, I made my way downstairs for breakfast and found my mom and visiting grandparents in the kitchen. Mom was at the stove, making pancakes and cooking bacon. As I entered mom’s kitchen my grandfather smiled and held out his hand. I grabbed it and squeezed. He loved me. Grandma was sitting at the kitchen table. She opened her arms, pulled me in and gave me a big old-person kiss. Appreciated but gross. She loved me too.
Released from my grandmother’s clutches, I turned to my mom, “Hi mom. Can I go see The Poseidon Adventure with Tony today? It’s playing at two o’clock. You don’t need to drive me. We can just walk there after lunch.”
The bacon crackled and she jostled some pieces about the pan. Without turning to look at me she responded, “I don’t know Beasley, its rated PG. It’s an adult film and, well, you’re just too young.”
“Mom, Tony’s parents are letting him go. I’m ten. Just let me go. I’ve seen worse.” She wheeled around, “Really, when? What have you seen, mister? Tell me what you’ve seen, Beasley.”
“Forget it, mom, just forget it.”
She returned to her bacon and, taking a break, took a sip of Lipton tea without looking at me. I turned to my grandmother with my best sad dog eyes. She put her fingers to her lips and, without my mother seeing or hearing, silently gestured with her hands, ushering me out of the kitchen.
“I’m going upstairs to wash my hands, mom.”
I went to the bathroom and combed my hair for about five minutes, wetting the black comb to try and straighten the curly ends. Curls were for girls. Satisfied with my wet look I washed my hands and returned to the kitchen.
“Beasley, Grandma said the movie’s fine for you to see. You can go but if anything is too scary or there is anything you’re too young for, you have to shut your eyes. Understand? I’m trusting you.” “Thanks, mom. I’ll shut my eyes if I get scared.” My grandma smiled at me and I smiled back as we enjoyed our secret.
Breakfast ensued as me and my brother fought over the bacon. We argued until my sister left to use the bathroom. While she was gone we proceeded to divvy up her bacon as we shoved it in our mouths. When my mother turned her back to tend to the stove, I took spoonfuls of sugar from the pink sugar bowl and shoved sugar into my mouth. My brother grabbed the bowl from me and shoved a huge spoonful of sugar in his mouth, spilling sugar on table. He swiped the spilled sugar onto the floor in a graceful arc. My grandmother just stared at us as we placed our spoons down and crunched the sugar into a sweet syrup in our mouths.
After breakfast I used the phone hanging on the center of the kitchen wall to call Tony. We made arraignments to meet at one o’clock in front of the huge rock in the center of town.
In anticipation of the movie, I followed breakfast by spending the morning in the bathroom; filling up the tub and, kneeling at the side of the tub, repeatedly submerging and sinking my model boats in a never ending series of simulated waves. I was careful not so spill water over the sides of the tub. Periodically, I would be told to leave the bathroom when adults had to drop off friends at the lake. After the first such incident, I waited a respectful time to make sure the molecules – things we had just learned of in science – recently swirling about the adults’ butts did not find their way into my nose.
“Beasley, lunch is ready.”
Lunch. My current favorite was fried baloney and mom accommodated my whim. Keeping the skin on, we fried up six slices in a layer of butter. In an effort to avoid allowing any fat to escape my port hole we tossed a couple of slices of bread onto the frying pan, soaking up the last portions of baloney juice. Delicious.
Following lunch I worked the line, hugging my mom, grandmother and grandfather. My grandfather slipped me $10 to cover the ticket, a soda, popcorn and Junior Mints. Before leaving, my mom stopped me. “How are you getting there, Beasley?” Citing the longest but most parent-friendly route, I explained we would walk through town, take a left on Maple and then walk on the sidewalk all the way to the theater.” “Please, Beasley, be careful crossing Maple. Cross by the library, OK?” I nodded and ran out the back door as she yelled, “I love you, Beasley.”
Walking the half mile or so up town I found Tony waiting for me. The movie theater was about two to three miles away. “Let’s cut behind the stores.” Tony suggested. He didn’t have to say so as every time we went through town we snuck through the alley behind the stores looking for garbage and things to break. Today we found six fluorescent light bulbs. Each bulb was about four feet in length. Carrying three each, we walked to the parking lot behind the bank. Without thinking we stepped to the edge of the lot and, liked skilled Olympic javelin hurlers, threw them in quick succession, hitting a number of parked cars. We watched as they shattered, releasing their white gas and our favorite noise. Kish-pa! into the parking lot. Once finished with the parking lot, we retraced our steps out of the alley, returning to the main thoroughfare to the front of the stores. We walked through the center of town none too concerned.
We made our way to one of the two small newsstand/soda fountain stores. Before 7 Eleven towns were salted with small stores selling breakfast to commuters, papers, magazines, tons of candy, baseball cards and comics. We made our way to Sherberts. It was owned by a gruff old married couple. They did not take kindly to kids in their store as we were nothing but a threat and a nuisance. Before entering Sherberts, I turned to Tony, “Can you get two Thors if I get old man Sherbert out of the way?” Tony smiled and walked into Sherberts heading straight to the comic books. “How much is this comic, Mr. Sherbert?” “Jesus H. Christ, kid, it’s the same price as always. 25 cents. If you’re not going to buy it put it down.”
I walked straight to the candy rack. Rows and rows of chocolate bars and candies splayed before me. I could feel Sherbert’s eyes borrowing into the back of my neck. I reached up to the Junior Mints and, acting confused, pulled out the entire carton, spilling dozens of boxes of Junior Mints on the floor. Hearing the commotion, the counter dwellers momentarily turned their attention from their papers and coffees to me and, in turn, to Mr. Sherbert. Sensing a threat, he and his wife, made a bee line to me. “Don’t touch those mints, sonny. Let me see your pockets. What did you put in there?” I pulled my pockets inside out, showing one $10 bill and nothing else. Sherbert looked at me sensing I could afford some candy. “Are you going to buy anything, sonny.” “Not anymore.” I barked. I turned and walked out the front door, the eyes of the counter dwellers following me to the street.
Tony was waiting outside for me. “Nice one,” he nodded. We walked up to the phone booth and stuffed ourselves inside, closing the door. He pulled two new Thor comic books from the front of his pants. “That’s not all,” he said, pulling out two additional Hulks. Jackpot. We stuffed them back in our pants and made our way one block up the road to the train tracks.
The train tracks represented the lifeblood of our commuter town. Each morning thousands of commuters, most wearing Dick Tracey hats, stood by the tracks with newspapers and paper cups with piping hot coffee purchased from men like Mr. Sherbert as they waited to pile into the train. As the train approached the whistle blew and in unison hundreds of men began folding their papers and picking up briefcases as they entered their daily battle. Each evening, the trains stopped, belching out swarms of hungry commuters, ready to make their way home following a long hard day in New York City. The train whistle, signaling an approaching lifeline, was a constant part of our lives. During the day it meant hurry or you’ll miss the train or beware, train approaching. At night it meant, safety, warmth; you’re close to home or already home safe and sound. Between the morning and evening whistles, long slow freight trains made their way along the tracks passing to and from New York to far off destinations. Destinations unknown to me.
Today was Saturday so commuter trains were few and far between. That was fine with me. Commuter trains were fast and dangerous. During each of the last four years, a person had been killed on the tracks in our little town. Commuter trains were like panthers and could kill you. The freight trains, however, were like elephants. You had to respect them but their power could be harnessed. They were slow and, when they approached the center of town, even slower as they had to ease their way around a bend and across the main thoroughfare. They slowed to a crawl and begged for us to harness their power.
As Tony and I walked up the street towards the tracks, we heard a whistle in the distance. Tony and I looked at each other and bolted not wanting to miss our opportunity. We ran up to the train crossing, and, as the red warning lights began to blink, crossed the street. We ran parallel to the tracks as we made our way away from town, going in the same direction as the approaching train. Soon we were out of site. A couple of hundred feet away from the road trees obscured the railroad from town and the neighboring houses. We waited at the bend for the approaching train. As we waited we stuffed our pockets with rocks and, when full, we picked up a final handful of stones and respectfully stepped back about 10 feet from the tracks. Slowly we saw the lumbering hulk approach, first passing through town past the idling cars and then towards us stationed at the bend. As the ground vibrated the first locomotive’s engineer sounded the horn warning us to stay clear. Slowly three connected locomotives plodded past us carrying their load. We unleashed a salvo of rocks striking the beast.
Like a circus train of elephants the freight train lumbered forward spanning our view in a large outward curving arc. Once the locomotives were around the bend and out of site, we began running alongside the fright cars. Spying a huge brown boxcar with a low-enough ladder (for not all cars had ladders low enough to grab) we ran along side the beast, pacing ourselves with the giant moving box. I grabbed the ladder and, after running for a few more feet, jumped up onto the bottom rung, pulling myself up. I began climbing up the ladder to the top of the car as I heard Tony follow suit below me. We made our way to the top of the moving boxcar and, standing in the center of the rumbling train, began city surfing. The cars rocked back and forth, clinking loudly, as we struggled to keep our balance.
Once the freight train made its way around the large bend, it began to pick up steam. Very quickly we went from trying to harness a lumbering freight train to trying not to tumble from a fast moving predator. Remaining upright became difficult and, periodically, Tony or I would lose balance, stagger about and stumble. I teetered over and Tony jumped down onto the “floor” after me (actually the top of the boxcar, about 12 or so above the passing tracks below) to grab my leg. “Man, you almost fell off the edge, that time, Beasley.” Not wanting to show how scared I felt I nodded silently. We returned to our feet and continued surfing the top of the train.
The train continued forward and approached the Main Street crossing marking the halfway point to the theater. As red lights blinked and the crossing gates slowly dropped across the road, the train began to slow to a respectful speed. With the whistle warning the idling cars waiting on Main Street, the train lumbered past. Tony and I were about half down the length of the train so, by the time we were upon the crossing, the line of waiting cars was solid. I lied down next to Tony on the top of the boxcar to reduce my exposure. Tony turned, looked at me and smiled, getting up to his feet and standing. “They’ll see you, Tony. What are you doing? Get down!” “They won’t know who I am.” he said as he braced his feet and pulled down his zipper. Facing the line of waiting cars, Tony arced out a huge piss. He was trying to hold his balance and laughing hysterically. I jumped up next to him and started to pee as well. We crossed Main Street peeing on the top of the train as gawking moms and dads stared at our looping arcs of pee. Someone beeped a horn and soon everyone was beeping as we passed the crossing and returned to the tree enclosed journey.
As we passed to the other side of Main Street we approached the new tennis club. The club was private and the new building was constructed with its windowless back facing the train tracks. The roof of the club was made of some sort of corrugated steel and made a giant crashing noise when struck with rocks. We didn’t like the people frequenting the club. They had money. As the train passed the tennis facility, we pulled the rocks from our pockets and pelted the roof. The noise outside sounded like thunder. We could only imagine how it sounded inside. We’d never know. Once our train passed the tennis club we had only a couple of minutes until the next big curve; until our exit. In the distance we heard the telltale clanking of couplings coming together as the train began to brake.
Like thunderclaps the cascade of compressing couplings approached, warning us of our pending exit. As the train slowed we climbed down the ladder on the side of the boxcar. As we came to a slow crawl, we jumped from our ladder, each mindful of trying not to bend our new Thor and Hulk comic books. We hit the ground without falling, our comic books survived. We stepped back from the tracks and watched as the train passed, slowly at first, then picking up steam as the front made its way past the end of the curve. The end of the train was marked with a red caboose. As it approached, we waved frantically at the black windows. It passed us without comment and, after looking both ways, we crossed the tracks finishing our walk to the movie theater about a half mile away.
We arrived a bit early and made our way to the front row, armed with large Cokes, a large buttered popcorn, one Goobers and one Raisinettes. We paged through our comic books marveling at the strength of Hulk and the wisdom of Thor. Nudging Tony, I reached deep into the front of my pants and pulled out a box of Junior Mints. “No way!” he exclaimed, “How did you get that past Sherbert.” I just shrugged and passed him the box of crushed mints.
We smiled as the lights went down and the Poseidon appeared. As the film and the tsunami wave were unleashed before us I looked over at my best friend I wondered what my mother had been so worried about.
Tags: fried bacon, grandmother's kiss, mother's worry, Poseidon Adventure, stealing, train
My similar experience involved walking the blue line tunnel between stations. I remember a couple of my particularly bright friends decided to try and walk from Aquarium to Maverick…which takes you from Downtown Boston to East Boston in one hop…they made it halfway before service was stopped so the MBTA police could retrieve them.
The scary thing about this was as the train rocketed past us…hiding in those carved out slots in the wall of the tunnel there was a suction effect that would try to pull you out. Of course, you could also try to jump over the third rails to get out of the trains way…
Kids are crazy.
That’s quite an adventure to get to the movie theater and to think your mother was worried about you closing your eyes in the scary scenes…ha!
ha!
You’re a great writer. That was an well thought out post.
I like your post. Your blog is fantastic.
This is a good post.