I worked every day after school and Saturdays either in the shop (a space no bigger then a walk-in closet) or on people's homes, for "room and board" (which means no pay) so eventually picked up other jobs on weeknights and Sundays. Had a resentment about that up until my 60s. But in this past decade that's faded away, among many others, thankfully.
just another ex-jazz-musician/proto-rapper/Jersey-Irish-poet-actor/print-junkie/film-raptor/beat-hipster-"white Negro"-rhapsodizer/ex-hippie-punk-'60s-radical-organizer's take on all things cultural, political, spiritual & aggrandizing
Thursday, August 19, 2021
TBT
My sister Irene and me in front of our father's home repair shop c. 1952 when I was 10 and she was 15, the only two of seven kids now still alive. John, the brother between her and me died as an infant. I was always playing catch up. In this photo she's just visiting, I was working, which meant answering the phone and fixing small appliances like irons and toasters and lamps et al. This was just a couple of years before corporations started sealing the innards of these things and more so we couldn't repair them for a couple of bucks so folks just had to buy news ones. Built-in obsolescence.
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