my first sin was when i was nine. my father's film company in jamaica had failed.
my parents divorced. bobby and i lived with my father who was working as a desk clerk at a miami hotel.
i was born rich and we lived rich. kingswood films ltd made us almost like little princes in discovery bay and kingston. but now we were broke.
one day i was headed for the pool and passed an open apartment door on our floor. i went in and quickly found some money. i took a five dollar bill, and later, i was caught and i confessed.
after that i got my money under the changing pavillions on the beach. money fell through the spaces between the boards and could be found on sand towere under the rooms. the weight of the coins held the sand while the gentle waves licked away the sand leaving a 30 millimeter pile like desert rocks in arizona with their giant pebble balancing 100 meters above the ground.
we moved to chicago. i asked my father to buy me a shoeshine kit for my birthday. bob, my father, was working at the drake hotel as a night clerk. i went up and down state street every night shining shoes for three hours or so, until my pockets were bulging with change. i was ten.
we moved to new york a couple of years later. bobby, my older brother, and i caddied at the golf course in saxon woods saturdays and sundays. 36 holes a day with two bags of clubs. the tips were always generous. my brother always gave his money to our father who was still struggling typing for a living and writing short stories.
i spent my hard earned money on comic books and clothes. my father pointed that out once as a kind of selfish sin. so this was my first resentment in life. it was all about money. so here i was sleeping in the same bed with my brother on the top floor of a rundown tenement fighting with my brother every day and defending my honor at davis high where the greasy meanies had a culture of after school fights.
i couldn't stand being poor and i hated going to school. one day my brother ran all the way home at lunch time and ate both cans of chili con carne; his and mine. and that's all there was. i was so angry, i packed a suitcase with canvas boards, paints and brushes, and set out at dusk for california with three cents in my pocket.
i got as far as the outskirts of chicago and the cops picked me up hitch-hiking. an ex law partner of my father's who was now a judge came to the police station where he found me painting a picture of a red mill. the judge put me on a plane back to new york.
the next day i left again. five days later i was in los angeles. i lived for two weeks sleeping in a long bush in pershing square. it was like a tunnel. one day, a school day (i was thirteen), the cops captured me. this time i wouldn't tell them my name so they put me in reform school in gardena. after two weeks there i got into a paddle fight when a sore loser at ping pong attacked me. this neanderthal kid didn't like losing so i got beat up. i called my grandfather who lived in santa maria.
pappy gave me a pack of camels and put me on the 'red carpet' flight to new york.
the next day i took off again and headed for florida. nancy, my mother, lived in clearwater beach.
24 hours later i showed up on my mother's doorstep. she had to take me. it was decide that i could stay through the school year and then switch with bobby after spending the summer. the three of us living by the beach. i accepted that with a little resentment. after all this was all my doing. but i guess it was 'fair'. they didn't call my father 'the judge' at northwestern for nothing.
clearwater beach left to right bobby, nancy and moi.
back in new york bob was now writing copy for advertising and industrial films. we rented a house in POSH easthampton way out on the tip of long island, but we were still relatively poor. they had a beautiful golf course and we caddied for spending money.
now i'm painting a lot and reading voraciously. i could isolate myself in the attic with my books and a hotplate for tea. bobby and i are living in this giant house of admiral halsey's, in town. we had nine dogs and an old packard which we were just learning to drive thanks to a girlfriend of my father's, nena aleman an aristocratic intelligentsia refuge from cuba. nena taught us to drink and drive. (not really true. i had my first tom collins in jamaica when i was six and i loved it. our 17 year old gardener used to make them for us. more about jamaica someday.)
with a procession of housekeepers the only authority over us with bob working all week 120 miles away in manhattan, we had the run of the house and got into a little trouble now and then. but i was o.k. when i holed up in the attic with the collapsible stairs. but whenever i would tag along with bobby and his gang of friends, i would get into trouble… well, we mostly didn't get caught for borrowing the rental cars fromt he mantauk airport and driving on golf courses. we killed a few sitting ducks in ponds there and returned those shiny chevy impalas all muddy but not dented.
we drank a lot. added water to my father's hard liquor so he wouldn't notice. our gang, fithian, mazzefarro and the gallo brothers even burglarized 'cavanough's' the town delicatessen in the middle of the night for cases of beer. we were the aristocratic bad boys. of course the best girls loved us. bobby was the fastest runner at easthampton high and i was the long distance runner. and i was also a boxer. fisticuffs, not a box maker.
it was a good life; especially the beach life in the summer and horseback riding. but there was always this 'gatsbyan' shame of never having enough cash. girls would have to pick up the check at the local hamburger joint, the 'marmidor'.
so now i am 15 and bob gets a great job writing for NASA in florida. we are yanked out of school and transplanted to orlando. i wouldn't go to school. i insist on staying home and painting. my father agrees because his father cajoled him into becoming a corporation lawyer. the pendulum swings.
his father, pappy to us, made millions shipping produce during the depression. pappy was the 14th child of donald cumming a carpenter in goderich, canada. he ran away when he was thirteen to california.
painting au plein air in orlando. circa 1958
o.k., that's my love hate relationship with money although there's more. (my early fame as a prodigy and finally my own money.}
Brilliant. I loved reading it. Thanks for that 🙂
Everyone of us could write a story like that – different on the surface, similar at the core. I totally agree. I hold cogent memories and would love to sit down with you and Scott with the six-pack.
That was brilliant reading!! :yes:(Standing by for the 'early fame' part!! ) :cheers:
This is what I've always said and what I believe in – that in every person's life is a drama, a fairytale, love, hate, everything that life holds. Everything in each and every of our little lives on this planet.Everyone of us could write a story like that – different on the surface, similar at the core.I love the way you wrote your version, Scott. I sense you through the words – your understated anger, your lust for life, your love, your success and your failures. And I nod and get to know you because your life mirrors mine. Not on the surface but at the core.How I long to buy a six pack, sit down and share it with you across a table and keep up the conversation that just began in my mind as I read your words.
I hold your hand and I walk next to you to a memory lane… so many similarities, so much to share with you some day,now you know I follow you already and it is very enjoyable,keep talking and I am pouring the wine :wine:
:heart: I always love reading btwn the lines, all the comments too! :lol:*hugs*when I get tipsy I sing ,others do talk, if you are a talker I will double it! 😆 :wine: + :wine:
wow, everyone wants me to drink. :lol:thanks loku for the great comment.allan,i agree with that. everyone has these special memorable events in their lives; all different on the surface. what interests me is the thread of universality that you alluded to.someday we are going to get together. i don't know when and i don't know how but i have my heart set on traveling to denmark and england, greece, france and germany… even iceland. :happy:all i'm waiting for is the right cards to be dealt. waka,thanks for commenting. 'early fame' coming right up. maybe tomorrow. :smile:meli,i will… i have a whole new plan to talk about myself in this blog. and of course between the lines hide some food for thought. :heart:
i love to talk… too much sometimes but there is nothing like a good conversation. the trick is to be able to listen well too. :smile:i sing too… when i am happy. so i am singing often. :happy:oh i had such a good day today. so did you, i think :heart:
There's a novel or movie in there.
Such an interesting life.
:heart: I am :happy: to know your day was a good one!my days are most of the time great! unless dealing with two teens gets in the way ( they are good kids …) :heart:
Ah, the stories that could be told.If only others could be so bold. To paint with flair as you have doneI'd read their stories one by one. As stories unfold like the Daily TimesAnd we here read between the lines.To feel your anger and your painTo know that you suffered shame. Your words spill from time immortalDrifting through the internet's portalAnd we, your online friends delightIn a childhood told of a serious plight. Thanks for sharing, Scott. :up: 🙂
"There's a novel or movie in there."san, is it? only if i tell the whole story… :smile:meli, don't let them run you ragged. they will you know. if you let them. :hug: why don't we have a hug… is that too much to ask? mom, thanks for adding your comment. always glad to see you. :happy:you encourage me. you all encourage me to go on… to persevere with my best effort. :smile:babs, that is just simply marvelous. i love it… especially because it is a way i admire… extempore… impromptu. strike while the iron is hot. thank you for your generous quatrains with wit and wisdom.
I also love that photo of 'bobby,nancy, and moi'. It looks like an old postcard, the colours are so retro.
:coffee: Scott, personal stories make online friends seem so much more real – Without being able to see or touch each other in the real world, we are so often at odds with those in this online social one. Your story is both sad and touching, but vibrant with your daring mischief. {{{Angeliki}}} Hugs back at you! 😀 Where'd you get the hug image? I want one! 😆
(((babs))) thanks for the tip… i'll just do that from now on when i want to hug someone. :happy:
why doesn't it work for me? :irked:san,nick nolte could play me from about the year 2000,when i first hit los angeles. but a guy like di caprio would be best for the younger years. when he played jack in titanic, i thought i was watching myself… not the looks but the attitude. he totally floored me. he had it so down pat. the devil may care and exuberant irrepressible young artist… gleefully free. :up:
and this one for every body else that writes poetry ! :lol:yes Babs ,this one is for you !
I'll be first in line to buy your book! Or see the movie! What actor would play you?
G'night Scott. Angeliki – you missed a spot. I got it. 😆 😀 :flirt:
:lol:Babs,trust me I got the bulls eye ! :lol:I am on the floor here! I was hesterical laughing at Casey's comments (she is MOTW) and all of a sudden I got a similar comment that has me changing here ! :lol:in her MOTW:http://my.opera.com/community/blog/2008/11/07/member-of-the-weekellinidata, # 13. November 2008, 01:30:01in mine:http://my.opera.com/community/blog/2008/06/13/member-of-the-week?cid=6383338&startidx=300#comment6383338:lol:G/Night both,:heart:
{{{Scott}}} I learned that years ago – in an old yahoo chat room I used to frequent, under the pen name of 'TisQuinn. 😆 Funny how you remember things. 😀
ha ha ha i feel so loved. nitey nite babs :love:
edit the comment meli and copy the link,use it as often as you feel like giving a hug! :love:
babs,it's cool… it looks like a hug; an excited hug. :up:ahhhhh, thanks meli :heart: :heart: :heart: yipeee :love:
oh, my soft spot. go to bed woman… 😆 it's 1:30 505 quatrillian…? and change. that'll take a while. i'll have to adjust my… errmm schedule.
:lol:505747832490439875 hugs back at you! "a kiss at the neck" too ! 😆
*and the silence of the dead of night descends on the kool-aid house…:eyes:
I loved reading that! Wow! (((Scott))) 😀
:love:
Very very good reading Scott. My God I recognize the restlesness :happy:
and she whispers back "yes, I do " :)thanks meli!I was looking for you in the video!! 😆
ahhh finally isabel has come. :heart: wow )without our women( acronym alert… wow we are nothing.love you too meli… and all you need is love. :love: is all you need.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLxTpsIVzzovery astute observation nic :happy:i was never a runaway, i was a 'run=a=to', and just for the record my smart father never called in the gendarmes. he later said, "i knew scott could take care of himself."
Oh Scott I read your writing at least at one breath…you had in life nice days, sometimes better, sometimes worst, you went through your life with enthusiasm of child,with fire of Man, you went and reached your goal, failed and stand up and always grown up and you can say your life was valuable… you ploughed deep furrow…Be happy, health and long time productive so as you was till now….and when you will travel to another site of Earth…you not forget,here in the middle of Europe, in small country Slovakia you has also friend
:heart:
😀 Is it time to liven it back up for a little while? 😆
well the time will come that you will share btwn Central America and when in USA the East Coast, all the kids are in the East right? Then Manhattan will be happy to have you over! 🙂
"ed sullivan show. :smile:"the shows that became classics for a valid reason !my offices were on 55the and 7th Avenue,The Ed Sullivan theater is just on the next block 55th and 8th, I met many people there and I have many memories from my old neighborhood…I still miss the guys at the Carnegie Deli 😆 we were in the same Bldg and I always had the best sandwich on earth :)I don't miss Manhattan,(actually tomorrow I will spend all my morning there), I only miss the nightlife in Manhattan…
meli, i think i saw mick jagger in the background. i never saw the beatles live myself. but i did she their first appearance on television. ed sullivan show. :smile:thanks so much maria for your heartfelt comment and for extending a virtual invitation to visit your country. if i had my way, i would do a 'grand tour' of europe like a generation before mine used to be able to do without straining. times are different. i can only wait for my next hand to be dealt. if i win the pot, travel is inevitable. i have always wished i could travel. :happy:isabel :heart: keep coming back please.babs,i'm game… works done… let's play. :up: :whistle:
yeah… sigh… the night life. :heart: the night life here is sophomoric and provincial or just seedy like 43nd street used to be. oh well. :heart:
you're right meli… :love: nite to you and a cozy bed awaits the nite owl. 🙂
i know i know… but they're asleep. they don't know what they're missing. jon knows. :heart:
I love Jon, when I read the other day what he wrote to you,"it might sounds weird but I am proud of you", I got emotional,yes,he is a special man !and you owe him a visit to see his new home 🙂 *hugs* and G/night meli 🙂
Well that didn't take long – I opened the door and look what happened – Serves me right for wandering off site – and I get to blame you and all of your artwork for missing out on the conversation. 😆 Hope you two sleep well. I'm hoping I get on a bit earlier tomorrow. :heart: Nite!
you see them in your heart meli, and the have you in their blood,time it is just a number, see it this way,better days will follow :heart:
yep, new york is a 'siren song' for this wanderer, i'll be back. don't know when… the fates will decide. :love: yes all my progeny are in the northeast. we will have a grand reunion someday. :happy:i haven't seen three of my kids for over 12 years… intolerable. !
nite babs… i'm sorry…. hasta la manana 😆
…… good story… It was really very interesting to read it….
thanks petite olga 🙂
I can only add myself to the list. Everything seems to have already been said. Maybe I should just say, " Really? Fascinating!"
It appears you are part of a long line of vibrant people . . .pappy and bob and you and bobby. I would love to have your story as a book on my shelf-well it shouldn't sit an a shelf, probably piled next to my bed with the others that get daily read, or stuffed in a bag to take to a fellow reader soul that wants it to borrow. 🙂
a current friend saw some of these tales of s. at my apartment and she insisted that i start printing them out. so now, when i post, if it's about s. i make a hard copy. someday, when i have nothing in particular to do, which is never :lol:, i will go back and cut and paste all of them. i think i started in november 2008 in this vein.well, i have an idea. i am learning silkscreen production right now. how does "the illustrated history of the artist as a young man" sound? 😎
i'm going to hold you to that. of course with all the advance purchases, i'll be able to fly you here for the party :happy:
very 😎 i'll buy some bongos to tap at the release party! 🙂
sure thing or maybe i'll just pull an s. and hitch hike? not quite as safe for me to do that now as it was you then, eh?
it's just as safe but it's much more illegal. we used to ride freight cars too. no problem, but with security the way it is now, it would be almost impossible. you'd have to jump off way outside of town.
Originally posted by I_ArtMan:
So glad you included the link to this earlier post in your more recent one, Intellectual astronaut III.
http://my.opera.com/I_ArtMan/blog/2011/12/05/intellectual-astronaut-iii-2
Fascinating. I can't imagine taking off like that at such a young age. Resourceful. Smart. Brave. My oldest son is 11 1/2. It helps me picture you at the ages you describe.
I caught this comment of yours on page 1 of comments. I didn't read through them all, because this is the one that made me grin. Today is a good day too. ~ Janean
Originally posted by jbaird:
you said it. ! anyway, writing about Bob is just like writing about myself. i just was considering the 'reader'; and the reader's likely attention span. it's very different sitting in a chair with a book… providing that one is comfortable and has time. even the longest paragraph in existence (i think it's in james joyce) can be absorbed thoroughly. but the whole ambiance of the computer and the other things one is trying to get to causes a kind of impatience and speed.
Originally posted by I_ArtMan:
I do love to read, Scott. But we've discussed our mutual love of books before. In fact, since blogging I've read far fewer and I think it's because I'm reading stories before they are published these days and they are every bit as fascinating, if not more. Alas, your father's story is intertwined with your own. 'Tis true. I started writing about lessons form my children and inevitably wove in lessons and moments form my own childhood. Trying to sort them out now into two separate entities. It's not easy. In writing about my childhood now, my role as a mother comes out too. Intertwined. Where we come from, makes us who we are today. Tangled up, if you will, a la Turquoise Tangles. Just write it. However it comes out, it'll be The Right Way. ~ Janean
janean,so glad you could jump over to the parenthetical aside. you are a good reader. one of the best. :up:of course, now i will be tempted to do this again. therefore, here and now, i solemnly vow, not to do it again. it's my father's story. get that through my head. :happy:
Plus, holding a book in your hand is so much more pleasurable than sitting more upright to type properly at a computer, even if you're only reading and not writing too. I love how books can go everywhere with us and there are places I just won't take a computer for obvious safety and hazardous use reasons. I do love books. Have one on hold at the library I may go pick up yet today…better log off sooooooon and head that way. Keep writing. I'll keep reading what you write too. ~ Janean
"muddy but not dented" less expensive this waydid you miss new york something fierce? or was the orlando time nice with the sun and waves? did you like being closer to your mom year round then? when you went from her place back to ny earlier, you actually were apart for long periods of time from your brother?my dad was state champ sprinter, I couldn't sprint to save my life. when did you stop running long distance? running altogether? love the photos from your past, btw.