Horse drawn wagon reminds me of something - when I was a kid living in the St. Thomas Housing Project in New Orleans there were ragpickers that would come around driving a horse drawn wagon. I have no idea what a rag picker is, actually. I think he bought stuff that could be recycled. And there were men who had horse drawn wagons with produce in them. In New Orleans these guys persisted for many years. When I was way past full grown, I would stop at a wagon on Tulane Avenue and buy bananas, but the prices weren't really better than a grocery store and neither was the quality. These were black men.
And there was an Italian man with a hurdy gurdy and a Capuchin monkey, wearing a red vest and a red cap, with gold embroidery. He'd play the hurdy gurdy and the monkey would dance, and then the monkey would go out in the crowd and hold out the cap for tips. The monkey always seemed nervous and kept looking back at the master to make sure he was doing it right.
There were girls who were old enough to go out with boys, and when they went out on dates they always wore poodle skirts and lots of crinolines. I was in awe, I was sure that someday it would be my turn to go out on dates wearing a poodle skirt and at least three crinolines. I remember one of the girls I envied the most was named Gloria, and she dated a guy whose name escapes me now, but I may remember it, something like Newton. I do remember a confrontation but not the reason why, but the reason it sticks in my mind is that he chased us across the courtyard, and we ran under a clothesline he didn't see, because it was dark, but he ran straight into it, and the line caught him on the throat, and he swung on the line on his throat and went down. |
