Winter Is My Middle Name E-Book

Don Rayner

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Join Danny and his friends as they have many misadventures in a southwestern Pennsylvania steel town during the late 1950s and early 60s. The story has many memorable and odd characters.  It was a much simpler time; there were no cell phones, computers, or video games.  People still gathered around the radio to listen to 'Superman' and 'Fiber Magee and Molly'.  If they were lucky enough to have a TV, it was black and white and all kitchen appliances were white.  There was no Internet.  The closest thing to Amazon was the Sears Catalog, where you could order anything from a toy train to a Craftsman House.

Sputnik, Echo, and who knows what were circling the earth. The local dump provided everything kids needed to keep them occupied.  There were areas in town that still had outhouses.  They were poor but didn't know it.  Kids could roam the neighborhood without any worries.  Their parents would tell them "Come home when the streetlights come on."

If you are looking for a book like 'War and Peace' or 'Moby Dick', then look somewhere else. This book is more like Jean Shepherd's 'A Christmas Story'; if it were a movie it would be rated 'G' for general audiences.  Whether you are 12 or 112, I am sure you are going to enjoy this book as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Leseprobe

Don Rayner

Winter Is My Middle Name

Dedicated to my wife Darlene, my daughters Heather & Erin, my grandchildren Collin, Ethan & Jaxon, and my son-in-law John. Thank You All! BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Title

Winter Is My Middle Name

By

DW Rayner

DW Rayner

Published by DW Rayner at BookRix

Copyright 2017 by DW Rayner

Heather Rayner Ditch - Editor

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. All rights reserved. No reproductions, by any means, are allowed. Excerpts may be used for critical reviews only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is available in print at online retailers.

Some of the places in this book are real and some are fictional, but the characters and events are all fictional and purely a figment of my warped, fragmented imagination. Any resemblance of anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Dedicated to my wife Darlene, my daughters Heather & Erin, my grandchildren Collin, Ethan & Jaxon, and my son-in-law John.

Thank You All!

Table of Contents:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Prologue

January nips the fingers and bites the toe February is full of ice and snow March winds down the chimney blow April showers

Bring May flowers June pretty flowers everywhere Warm July our nation's birthday August ripens peach and pear

School begins in warm September In October leaves all fall

Turkeys come in bleak November Then comes December, best of all!

My mother knew that old poem by heart and would always say it in the winter. I think deep down she really liked winter almost as much as I did. Now, many years after she has gone, my wife and I are taking down our Christmas tree on January 2. This has become a tradition and it is still just as sad now as when I was a kid. Even though I hate putting the tree up in December, come January, I hate to take it down. I don't know if this will be our last Christmas together when you get old you start thinking about things like this and your past in general.

As I look out the window there is no snow in sight. This has been the warmest winter I can recall since the early 1960s. That was a year like this and I thought it would never snow, but snow it did! I was ready to run away to Canada, there is always snow there I thought. That was my goal in life, to go to Canada and build a log cabin along a desolate lake. Just fish, trap animals, cut firewood, and have a small vegetable garden with fruit trees all around. Yes, I had it all planned out I could not wait to get out of school. It was a waste of time I knew how to read, write, and do arithmetic, that was all I needed to know, or so I thought at the time. Enjoy this look back at a simpler time, when no one locked their doors and kids could play outside and roam the neighborhoods without fear of anything happening to them. I can hear my mother telling me, "Just be home when the streetlights come on." There were pay phones everywhere, cell phones weren't invented, and not everyone had a television. It was a fun time growing up in Johnstown, Pennsylvania, and we enjoyed every minute. I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter 1

There I was, trudging home from school. Normally I would be running home; the sooner I got away from the school the better. Christmas vacation was too short; they should give us the three winter months off from school and let us go to school in the summer. It was January 2; this was always the saddest day of the year. Not only did I have to go back to school, but it would also mean that when I got home, my mother would be taking down the Christmas tree! I hated to see the Christmas season come to an end. I loved Christmas and anything that involved snow or ice. "Winter" was my middle name! I could not stand being in the house. It didn’t matter how cold it was outside, I would spend every minute I could sled riding, skiing, or just walking in the snow. I loved it! When I came into the house, my fingers would start to sting and I would run cold water over them to take the pain away.

We had snow at Christmas, but now there were only traces of it where the snowplows piled it up along the streets or where it was heaped up along the sidewalks after being shoveled. The piled up snow was turning black from the soot and coal smoke spewing out of the chimneys on houses and from the smokestacks at the mill. At the other end of town, the snow piles were turning a rusty brown color from the open hearths and the blast furnaces. We lived in the west end of town and the wind blew everything toward the east end.

At least my father would not be at home with his yelling "Fiddlesticks!" at everything he didn’t agree with. He was working 3-11 in the steel mill and I would be in bed long before he got home. He was from England and believed in the class system, and of course he was at the top. He thought everyone was put on earth to serve him and "children should be seen, and not heard."

During World War II, he was a radioman in the British Navy; he always called it the "Royal Navy." He had a way of using words like "lorry, flat, loo, fag, blimey, and cheerio." My friends had no idea what he was talking about, and for the longest time I thought "little bugger" was a term of endearment. When I would bring a friend home, he would ask me, "What's that little bugger up to?" It wasn’t until I was grownup that I found out that it had a very different meaning.

When he was home my mother had to cook meat, potatoes, gravy, and vegetables for every meal; I hated all these big meals. I only "ate to live," I didn’t "live to eat" like my pal Tubby, he would eat constantly! Now mom could open a can of soup, or make hamburgers or hotdogs, and we both would be happy.

My father had been stationed in Baltimore for a month while they made repairs to his ship and my mother had been working there at the Social Security office as a keypunch operator. It was New Year's Eve and they met in a dark, smoke-filled little bar. Three weeks later they were married. That is how my mother was, very impulsive, I think everyone who knew her must of thought she had lost her mind. A week later, he shipped out and occasionally she would receive a letter from him. It was during the war and they could only send mail when they went into a port. The letters would be postmarked "Cape Town," "Sierra Leone," or some other exotic place. The remainder of the time they were out looking for Nazi warships. After the war was over, my father returned to England and sent for my mother. They lived there for several years and that is where I was born during the "storm of the century." I imagine that was why I enjoyed winter so much.

My mother did not like living in England; she said it was too wet and cold. It was a custom in England to put the babies outside for at least twenty minutes everyday. They believed it was very healthy for them; perhaps they were right.

My mother would go shopping and leave me outside in the pram with all the other babies. One day she came out and there was a horse looking into the pram and she almost had a heart attack. That was when she finally convinced my father to come back to Johnstown. He found a job in the steel mill and they rented a house in "Ducky Beach." There were no ducks and no beach, just a great view of the Conemaugh Gap and the steel mills. This section of town did not have sewers, so we had an outhouse, cold running water, and electricity. We eventually got a telephone.

I remember my mother heating water on the stove so I could take a bath. There was a big, maroon enamel Kalamazoo coal stove in the middle of the kitchen to heat the house. We used to sit at the kitchen table in front of the stove and listen to "Superman" and "Fiber Magee and Molly" on the radio. The public sidewalk went right by our window and we would see women coming home from shopping, carrying their bags, or coal miners with their lunch buckets, stooped over from a hard day's work, covered with coal dust, coming home.

My father could not believe there was not a toilet in the house. He said he was going to get a "real" house even if he had to build it himself, and eventually he did. That is how we came to be living in a cement block foundation. It was like living in a cave. Most of it was below ground except for the back where the door was located. The few windows we had were high up and you could not see anything out of them, except for the sky.

I was walking past Silver’s Drug store and I stopped to look into the big glass window. It didn’t matter what the weather was like, the glass was always clean. There was a long counter with old-fashioned stools with backs on them, not like the more modern round stools at the Dairy Dell. The floor was made up of small black and white octagon tiles, and when I had money to spend, I would go inside for the best milkshake five cents could buy. Then I remembered we had to take the tree down and I knew I should get moving and get it over with. There would be no changing my mother’s mind and I might as well not even try. Up ahead I saw my pal Tubby; he wasn’t what you would call fat, just big. I ran up to him and tapped him on the back. He jumped a foot off the ground, which was high for his size!

"What’re you trying to do Danny? Scare the crap out of me!"

"Take it easy Tubby, that would take a lot a scaring. I have to get home to help take down the Christmas tree."

"Taking it down already? Aren’t you going to leave it up for the Russian Christmas?"

"Naw, my Dad wouldn’t want anyone to think we were Russians!" The Russian Christmas was celebrated on January 7, and from our neighborhood we could look across the valley over to the Russian neighborhood where it looked like every house was lit up.

My dad would put a ten-watt candle in the window and that was our outside decoration. Although one year after Christmas he found two sets of outdoor lights, with eight bulbs on each string, on sale for ninety percent off, and he bought them. That was all he talked about for a week. How he got those lights for only ten percent of the original price. He thought it was the deal of the century! The following year he put them on the two small evergreens on each side of our front door. Well, eight lights on those trees did not cover much. It was the skimpiest looking outside decoration I ever saw. I think we were the talk of the neighborhood that year. He never put them up again.

"Hey, are you going skating Friday at Faiths Grove?" I asked Tubby.

"It’s Friday, isn’t it? Of course I’ll be there." Tubby also lived to roller skate; he was there everyday they had skating. He would also go over to Roseland, Skateland, or Skate Away and skate there if he had enough money.

"I’ll see you there, since we haven’t had much snow yet this winter. I would sooner be sled riding or skiing in the graveyard." The graveyard was like our private park; it was where we played football, baseball, and went skiing and sled riding.

"I’m going with Joe. We’ll meet you at the graveyard at 6:30, OK?"

"Ok, I’ll be there. You know, I really don’t like Joe. He’s always getting me into some kind of trouble."

"You don’t like anyone, you know that? It’s not just you; he gets everyone into trouble!"

He was right. I didn’t have any "best" friends; Tubby was about as close to a best friend as I would ever get. We had a lot in common. He was an only child like me, and our fathers worked shifts in the mill. I guess I was sort of a loner. I didn't mind being by myself. It seemed in those days that when you were with your "friends" it involved a lot of hitting each other, which I didn’t like. If you were walking down the street with your "buddy," and he spied an empty Lucky Strike cigarette pack on the sidewalk, he would jump on it while at the same time punching you in the arm yelling "Lucky Strike!!" Or if he found an empty Camel cigarette pack, he would pick it up and ask "Hits or cracks?" You would respond with either and it seemed like no matter which one you said you would end up getting punched in the arm. He would peel off the blue tax stamp to reveal either an "H" or a "C" and would say either "You're right, its "H'" and punch you or if it was a "C" you would get punched because you were wrong. When someone punched me I would go crazy, I could not explain it. So that is probably one reason I didn't have many close friends.

I just tried to get along with everyone I was with at the moment, but there was something about Joe I just didn’t like. He had a way of getting into trouble without even trying. If you were sitting next to him on the playground, in the next moment you would be running for your life because some big kid was running after Joe and anyone he was with, yelling, "I’ll kill you!" I never knew what he did to those guys to make them so angry, but they sure didn’t like him.

"Yeah, yeah, I’ll see you there!"

When I arrived home, my mother, who was as tough as nails, had all the ornaments off the tree and put in the boxes. She was now taking off the icicles and saving them for next year. I could never understand why she didn’t just throw them out with the tree; they were only ten cents a box! I guess it had something to do with growing up during the "Great Depression" that I always heard about. She was always telling me how lucky I was to have all the things that I had. When she was little she had to make her own clothes out of gunnysacks, and they itched!

She always had that Lucky Strike cigarette hanging out of her mouth. When they coined the phrase "chain smoker" they must have had her in mind. As she talked, the cigarette would bounce up and down between her lips like a twig bouncing in the wind. It was amazing to watch. I don’t know how she did it, but the ash never did fall off. She had an ashtray on every table and would flick her ash into the closest one as she went about her daily routine.

My father, on the other hand, was a Camel smoker. A little too strong for my taste, I preferred the "Luckies." He would also smoke a pipe or cigars, whatever was closest. The steelworkers smoked cigarettes (or "fags" as my father called them), coalminers used snuff (either Copenhagen or Skoal) and the refractory workers used side chew (like Mail Pouch or Beechnut). And they all liked their beer!