Louie # 10 Part l
(1957-I am 7)
At Harry’s house I learned to fight.
Jab - jab – left hook and then a right.
Louie called for all the punches
I learned to throw in fast bunches.
Harry the champ who’d never brag-
Lifted me up to reach the bag.
They taught me how to tuck my chin,
To block the punches coming in.
They told me that my lefty lead,
Would have the strength to make foes bleed.
Emphatically they let me know;
Never to think of turning pro.
The sun hammered down on everything. It was blinding as it bounced off the white wide sidewalk, which was separated from the limestone curbstones by a strip of yellowing grass. Uncle Harry’s lawn, an enormous swathe to my urban eyes, was lush, green, and shiny with dense health; in the mist lofted by a lawn sprinkler I saw a miniature rainbow dance. Uncle Harry, wore pith helmet to protect him from the sun, held a metal bucket in his left hand and was leaning over his rose bushes as we arrived. He picked something up between his thumb and forefinger and dropped it into the bucket. Then he put the bucket down and turned towards us and a huge smile broke across his face. I ran across the damp grass straight to Uncle Harry. Though he looked like a great big grown up to me he was barely five feet tall, but built like brick. When I reached him he grabbed by the waist and whipped me off my feet with his tree thick arms, held me up in the air and asked,
“How’s my little nephew, Teddy doing?”
“I’m doing good, real good!”
He planted a big kiss on my forehead and then gently lowered me to my feet.
“How’s school?”
“I love school and I’m getting real good marks.”
Harry tried to look serious, but his eyes kept smiling as he said,
“That’s good- schools more important than anything almost. “
I nodded my head. I tried to look serious, too. I was in awe of Uncle Harry, because of the stories that Louie had told me about him in the past. They echoed in my head as I looked up at my Uncle.
Louie: “Your Uncle Harry was a really good boxer. He was small, a featherweight, that means he weighed 112lbs or less, but he was strong and fast and never got knocked, because he had a neck like a bull.
It was true. If his arms were like a tree’s limbs; his neck was like a tree’s trunk. It looked wider than his head and sat on massive shoulders. He stood straight as a tree too.
“He won the Golden Gloves featherweight championship of New York State back when that was a big deal and then went pro. He made some good money too; back then you’d have a Jew Fighting an Italian or an Irishman and both neighborhoods would come out to root for their man and fill up a whole arena. Your Uncle never got knocked out, but he quit when the mob told him he had to take a dive, but he made some money fighting and saved it – enough money to buy himself a house when the time came.”
Uncle Harry never talked about those days, but my Dad sure did. Louie wanted me to be proud.
I pointed at my Uncle’s hat. “That hat makes you look like an explorer in Africa.”
“I need it to keep my old bald head from burning.”
I pointed at the galvanized steel pail he had put down next him.
“What you doing with that,” I asked
“That bucket has kerosene in it.”
I could smell the kerosene as he held up the bucket in front of me. I looked into it and saw that besides the kerosene there were a whole lot of green and copper bugs floating in it; one was flailing its wings in what looked like agony to me. It was gross. I shuddered.
“Those are Japanese Beetles. They’re eating me out of house and home. Look at this.”
He pointed to what were once leaves on his red rose bush. They now looked like leaf skeletons; I could see one of the beetles just starting to munch away at a healthy leaf. Uncle Harry pinched the bug between his fingers and dropped into the bucket. It squirmed and shivered and then stopped moving before my eyes.
“Do they sting? Do they bite?” I asked.
“No all they do is eat my favorite plants. They don’t have a taste for little boys. After lunch I’ll get you your own bucket and you can help me get rid of these monsters.”
This I was not looking forward to. Also, I wanted to tell him, but I didn’t, that I wasn’t a little boy.
My brother, who had rickets, limped up to me. I pointed to the pail and he was grossed out too.
Harry: How’s the big brother doing?
Because my brother limped and ran funny sometimes I felt like I didn’t have a big brother.
George: “ Fine Uncle Harry,” anticipating his uncle’s next question he said, “ I’m studying hard in school, too.”
George, are you going to help me and Teddy get rid of these Japanese beetles after lunch.
George: “Sure,” George answered nodding his head slowly with an utter lack of enthusiasm.
My mother and father walked up.
Harry: “Henny, beautiful as always-he pecked her on the cheek and winked my father’s direction. “ And Leibisch ,” Louie dropped the brown paper bag he was holding onto the lawn ---they threw their arms around each other and hugged hard, “my little brother, (That sounded funny because Louie towered over him) then stepped away grinning at each other. Harry pointed to the paper bag my father had dropped on the lawn.
“What’s in the bag Leibisch?”
“A dozen and a half assorted bagels and a half dozen bialys fom the Nagel’s Bagels on Nelson Avenue, the best bagels money can buy; stopped on the way out to pick em up so they are fresh.”
“Crisp and shiny on the outside and soft and chewy on the inside. I got plenty of novi and even some belly for the little salt hound,” he said, pointing at me.
