Previously, Part 9: The Bungalow Had Some Serious Secrets & It Involved Brass Instruments & Swing Music…
The bungalow was the perfect place for me to live at that time.
I was 21, living alone, and trying desperately to figure it out.
That’s when the bungalow began providing me with the privacy I needed.
There was a certain simplicity and peace the bungalow provided that couldn’t be duplicated in an apartment complex.
People remember the"Great Blizzard of ‘78"as the big snowstorm.
That’s one I’ll never forget.
It was always cold in the bungalow, and I remember wearing thermal underwear to bed.
It was the sound of running water.
The carpet was floating on 5" of ice-cold water, the height of the threshold.
I quickly exited the bedroom and stepped up onto the carpet in the bathroom, which was soaking wet.
The bungalow was diagonally across from theMassapoag Trail Trailhead.
The bungalow was built on a slab, but on three different levels.
I took my green mid-calf rubber boots out and put them on.
I walked through the bathroom and back into the flooded bedroom.
I didn’t panic.
I waited to see how quickly the water went down and if the place would dry out completely.
I kept my boots on when I used the bathroom and walked into the bedroom to sleep.
I left the boots beside the bed, and in the morning, I stepped down into them.
A few days later, after most of the snow melted, the carpet started to dry out.
I was confident I’d be okay.
I grabbed fistfuls, pulling them out violently, but the next day, they were back.
I had to speak to the Silks about the problem and see what they could do.
I drove over to Pokey’s and spoke to his mom, Marie.
She told me not to worry; she’d find me another place.
It all made perfect sense.
Apparently, the Silks had the place professionally cleaned but didn’t fix the problem.
They had no problem renting the condemned bungalow to me, though.
Even though I lived in the bungalow for close to 11 months, there were still many unknowns.
They were having the time of their lives in the prime of their lives.
Silk put her foot down because Herb and his friends were out of control?
Or did something happen in that bungalow involving Marilyn?
I guess we’ll never know…
It was an in-law apartment located at the back of a two-story single-family home.
He was a small guy who, because he was balding, always wore a scally cap.
He drove a huge 4-door Buick Lesabre with the seat pulled all the way up.
His wife was short like him, with medium-length bleach blonde hair I assumed was hiding grays.
She seemed nice enough and was even a bit flirty.
Their son was a jockey who won several big races and received some celebrity status as a result.
Thanks to Marie, it looked like I was in a better living situation.
I’d move in just in time for theGreat Blizzard of ‘78…
The place on Quincy Street wasn’t exactly aHollywood Bungalow, but it was close.
To be continued…
*All characters appearing in this work are fictitious.
Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental…
