Old News: Lafayette

I don't want you to think that life on Lafayette was all fun and games, what with shooting at

rats with Bull O'Connor. Sometimes, in the city, things can get a little desperate .

For instance, one time my mother and I were walking home from the Grady house, which was

also on Lafayette, but west of our house. My sister was in a buggy, so I guess I was 4 or so.

As we made our way toward 39th Street, I saw some of my kiddy friends in one of their back

yards. I begged to stay there while my mom went to the grocery store on the corner. She said

okay, but reminded me to stay there until she came back to get me after shopping. She went

up the street and I went into a kid's backyard to play.

For some reason, these kids were not overjoyed to see me. One immediately told me to go home. Didn't they realize what an addition I would make to the mix? Then another and another joined in, "Go home! Go home!" Even then, I suppose my short-term memory wasn't up to snuff. I went back to the sidewalk and began to make my way up the street, somewhat blinded by the tears.

Our front door was open, and I plowed my way up the stairway, letting the door slam shut

and lock behind me. By this time I was sobbing and calling for my mom. When no one answered, I realized she was at the store. When I tried to open the door, it was locked and

wouldn't budge. This make me panic a little, and I cried even more. But I had a plan. I

plowed my way up the stairs again and went to the kitchen, to the drawer where my dad

kept his extensive tool collection: one hammer, one pliers, and one screwdriver. Being

a chip off his old block, I immediately realized this was a job for the hammer, a small version

that was just my size. I dragged my little stool, the one I used to reach the sink in the bathroom, down the stairs. The top half of the door was a window with a charming sheer curtain. I put the stool in front of the door, stood on it, and broke the window with one chop. Not only did the door not open, but I cut my hand on a piece of glass. Now I was really beside my self. I plowed back up the steps and went directly to the front of the house where several

windows looked down on Lafayette. It was summer and the window was open. I looked

out and kept sobbing into the screen. Shortly, a lady saw and heard me. "What's wrong,

darling?" I sobbed, "My mother went to the store and locked me inside." She was

horrified. She asked me if she was at the store next door and I sobbed and nodded, "Yes."

Then she shouted up, "Come down stairs and I'll take you to find her." I nodded, still in

tears, and plowed my way downstairs. I looked worse than I was because I had been using

my bloody hand to wipe the tears out of my eyes. The lady reached inside the broken window

and undid the safety latch. All the time I could hear her muttering through my tears. All

I could make out was "mother," "awful," "poor child." I especially like the "poor child" part

of it. She took me by the hand and we walked to the store, Shenbergs, and she told me to

look for my mother while she still held tightly to my bloody little fingers. Still sobbing,

I pointed to my mother and said, "There she is." Then the whole place came to life. When

my mother saw the blood she assumed the lady had done something to me. When the

lady saw my mother, she started yelling at her for leaving me alone in the house by myself,

my sister started to scream on general principles, the butcher and the cashier came running

to see what was going on. So, okay, that was it. I don't remember what happened then.