FRIENDS  AND  ACQUAINTANCES

WARNING.. This is a long one.

Let me take you back to the 1950's, when I was a teen-ager.  Some of this may shock you, and I apologize in advance.

(Some of my friends did not know about some of my other friends, and I liked it that way.  It was as though I lived in several universes.)

Just before my 18th birthday, I got reacquainted with my future bride, and from then on, she and I spent every Saturday night on a date, and all day Sunday doing fun things ... including wonderful (one dollar!) all-you-can-eat fried chicken suppers on coastal Cape Cod.

During my time in New Bedford High School (NBHS), I interacted in study periods and gym classes with kids I had known in earlier schools.

Whenever I skipped school, my buddy Casey would usually accompany me on fun trips. (I didn't learn until years later that the Truant Officer lived half-way up the street from our house.  Why didn't he catch me?)

Well, sometimes I would walk by a Portuguese cafe and stop to listen to Fados coming from the open front door.  I loved those sad songs.  I still do.

One day a pretty lady saw me listening and invited me in for a Coke, and from then on let me come in to listen any time I wanted to.

I thought she looked familiar and one day she told me that she was the vice-principal for NBHS, and she had been fixing up my records so as not to show any truancy.

Do you see how difficult it was to be a cute teen-aged blond boy?  Lots of these kinds of adventures awaited me if I could only get over my shyness.

After school and on some weekends, I would interact with my (supposedly) "women-hater" friends, Howie, Joe, Harry and Cliffy.  We would tour, crowded into Howie's mini British car, and once in a while, we would continue our efforts to form an orchestra. Howie was a great trumpet player and I tried to play the marimbas.

But, mainly, we played baseball near the home of a pretty redhead.  Unknown to us until we received a wedding announcement, she was Howie's girlfriend.  So much for the "women haters."

I also interacted with my Cousin Charlie. I liked to think of him as my "little brother."  He and his parents convinced me that my "evil ways" needed a dose of Baptist religion.  This ruined my plans for sleeping late on Sunday mornings.

However, my adventures, both alone and then with  my semi-religious friends while a Baptist formed a vital part of my education, and it was enjoyable.

(As I mentioned, I kept most of my friends and acquaintances apart, and not many knew about my other "friends" at the YMCA where I worked.)

Yes, I worked 7 hours each day at the New Bedford YMCA,  and interacted with lots of people, some of whom I considered my friends..  Let me start at the top and work downward.

Bob Hastings was the "Y's" physical director.  He had an office on the third floor.  His "barebones" office furniture consisted of a desk and swivel chair, a work table with two hard back chairs, and a pool table with no pockets.  My friend, Casey, tried to teach me Kelly Pool on that table.

Mr. Hastings was the embodiment of the YMCA motto: "Spirit, Mind and Body," especially the "body" part.  He was probably 5'8" with an 18" waist and 60" chest.  Nobody could compare to this muscular guy, unless they were named Schwatzenegger.  Mr. Hastings was the person we all tried to emulate.

Paul Favor was the head of the local "Y."  He was a short but ramrod straight middle-aged man with a commanding presence. 

He seldom came out of his office. Some younger kids thought that he might be "God."

Paul was what would now be called a "Health Nut," and one day he accosted me at the pool table and instructed me to sit across from him at the work table.

He told me: "Joe, I want you to start a boys' health club.  I want you to be the President.  At the first meeting in November (I've reserved a room for your meeting) I want you to go over this material."

He then took a large package of pictures from his briefcase and laid some out on the table. "Yuk!" It was pictures of the inside of lungs (or something similar) and I felt like throwing up.

"So, Joe, take these pictures and talk about them at your meeting.  It may convince some young people to stop smoking. Good luck with the meeting.  Let me know how it works out."

Perhaps nobody had told Paul that I was only nine years old and so shy I couldn't even speak up in class.

I left the pictures on the table, ran out of the building, and did not reappear for six months, when Paul had apparently forgotten all about his instructions and may have also forgotten what I even looked like.

Lots happened on the first floor, but I want to just talk about what went on in the "side room."

My work shift began at 2:30 pm, and sometimes I was able to get there around 1:30, so I had time to kill.

The room had a grand piano that was kept in tune. One of the members would often serenade us with classical selections. Sometimes he would try to teach me to play.  I think I did learn to play a couple of simple tunes, but always off key, in spite of the fact that my mother, Aunt Hattie, and Aunt Mary all learned piano "by ear."  The three of them had jobs playing background music for the old "non-talking" movies.

My volunteer piano teacher was named Bill.  He was a descendant of an old famous New England family. He was a tall, handsome well-groomed man of middle-age.

Bill had a few bucks and always drove a new Cadillac.  He would be a great "catch" for any female.  However Bill was a homosexual (termed "Gay" now) and had a boyfriend,  D.  

D was very short and not too bright, but his claim to fame was his title as a "Bank Walker."  (Ask a country person what that means.) He liked girls but stuck with Bill because Bill let him drive his Cadillacs around town and to periodic homosexual conventions in Portland, Maine.

Bill was an extremely intelligent guy and would lecture me about the theories of Freud, Darwin, Kant and others.  Much more interesting than the stuff I was learning in the "Business Course" at NBHS.

I don't think the YMCA was prejudiced against "Gay" people, but pedophiles were a different story. Once in a while we had to expel men who had obtained their memberships so they could ogle the little kids as they took showers. 

At 2:30 pm, I would relieve red-haired Frankie.  He was five foot nothing and one tough guy.  He had been a boxer and he had forearms like Popeye.

Frankie was a nice guy.  He lived with his girlfriend and her children.  They used to sup at some "beer garden." I never knew where.  I envisioned a scene by Laurel and Hardy, where they enjoyed wienerschnitzel and beer at a beer garden.

Because I was a teen-ager, Frankie thought that I must have a busy sexual life and he constantly bugged me to tell him about it.  Although I did not have such a life, I would make up little stories that seemed to satisfy him.

Another little but tough boxer I knew was Joe Dundee.  I mentioned that I was going to Providence, Rhode Island to have an Army physical and he told me to look for his brother Angelo, who ran the place.

In a room full of naked guys, some find themselves unable to produce urine for a very important drug test.  I noticed a little guy in uniform whose job was to manipulate genitals in order to fulfill the requirement.  Close inspection of his nametag revealed his name, Angelo Dundee.

Another guy in my area was called BIM.  He was 6'6" tall and weighed close to 350 pounds.  Soap and other cleaning material was delivered in 400 pound steel drums. Bim was the only person I knew who could lift one of the drums and carry it around.

Brad was a blind man who ran a health spa in the basement. He was one of the few people who could do a one-arm hand-stand.  He also could do acrobatics better than any circus person that I had ever seen.

Brad loved to discuss esoteric things with his clients as they took tanning treatments.  Unable to block out the speech coming over the wall from Brad's spa, I vowed that if I heard another person say "metaphysics" again, I would scream.

Sometimes, after Brad had shut down for the weekend,  some of us (Casey, Woody, Daryl) would sneak over and get a little tanning in.

One day, Bill accompanied us and took muscle pictures of us with his Leika.  (Some of them were pretty good and are floating around on the Internet.)

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