In a previous post, I mentioned how the neighborhood I lived in while growing up shaped my understanding of animals and other people. One of these neighbors was the elderly Polish man who fed pigeons. He demonstrated kindness and respect for the pigeons and scolded me for frightening them with my childish play of chasing the birds. Also living down the street was a rough-looking, younger man who I knew by the name of Boo. It’s possible this was a nickname. Boo was more of a temporary dweller on our street and wasn’t around long enough for me to ask more questions about the origin of his name. While my mother never showed concern about time spent with the elderly pigeon man, there was a silent understanding that none of us kids should be hanging around with Boo. This made him even more interesting. Boo lived in a house that was boarded up, almost directly across the street from the man who cared for the pigeons. When I say ‘boarded up’ I mean exactly that. There were wood panels on the two main front windows and over the two tiny windows that led to…
I grew up in a Philadelphia neighborhood of row homes (now fashionably called townhouses) where everyone lived physically smushed right next to each other. Many of these neighbors influenced my understanding of both animals and people. Down the street lived one such person, an elderly Polish man whose name I never knew. The man lived with what must have been his sons and daughters though I didn’t know them or speak to them. The old man passed time by feeding and watching pigeons. He didn’t speak English at all and though I couldn’t understand his words, his voice was kind and his demeanor gentle. The man’s gray wool pants were too big for him and held up by suspenders. He was thin. So thin that he had no shape under his food-stained clothing. The man wasn’t very tall and was smaller still as he hunched over a bit when standing. The hair that he had on his head and the stubble on his face were both bright white. I was curious about him because he spent a lot of time outside of his house and so did I. When he…
Every Christmas, Birthday, or other celebration that involved gifting led to my asking for a pet. It was clear from early on that dogs were off limits. Too expensive and too much responsibility. Cats were also off limits. Too allergic (my mother, not me). My quest for a pet that met the qualifications of being ‘cheap,’ ‘not a lot of responsibility’ and ‘nonallergenic’ began. In a time that pre-dates Target and Walmart, the store of the day was Woolworth. Woolworth was a large-ish (by the standards of 1980) store that sold everything from food brought to you at a counter to sewing machines to hamsters. As a child, I spent many hours at Woolworth. I never really had any money to spend and I distinctly remember being followed around by store clerks as though they could sense our empty pockets. Even so, I wasn’t there for anything more than to pass time. To pass time and to develop a plan to acquire one of those adorable hamsters. Much as I’d envisioned myself snuggling up and rolling around with a dog, I developed a clear vision of myself holding…