Showing posts from July, 2016

...the corner.

Bert came onto my stage in the shoe department of one of Moody Street's upscale department stores when I was an aspiring -ass hole. I had been selling 'shoes' out of the place for two years during high school days. Anyway, he looked like he just stepped out of the doll-house, perfect countenance.  He was in from the home office. One of their rising stars. I did not know it at that time, but Bert was looking for me; he needed to mentor the employees from my shoe department, meaning me. What an education! Bert would walk around the department store learning the names off those who worked in different departments. He took me along for the ride. I was just the guy from the shoe department; i had no power, valueless, but they started looking at me differently, like I was a somebody in the shoe department. Bert was grooming me for the Boston office. Pure, like a miracle. Emulating Bert was like being the "orgasm" of many dreams. For example, Bert set it up so that I wo…

Moody Street

Moody Street, where I grew up, was my school. In my era, being born in 1942, the public school system in those days did not believe in wasting their resources on the Irish Catholic out of Waltham, Mass. Yes, it's true when I say that I received my diploma in 1961; but if the truth be told, they never tested me because I was listed in their system for social promotion. So I had to take a summer course in English that year. The school's principal called me into his office and explained my situation; I was behind the 8ball. So he enrolled me in Newman Preparatory, located in Boston, Mass which would determine weather or not I could graduate from High School.  It was a wake up call. So, when I say: It's a Moody street "high," it's because Moody Street is where I learned the most.  I worked as stock boy in several of the major stores on the street, sold shoes, tended their stock room and made ready the replenishment's because they were sold to a deserving soul…