Old school 'rents
You know, my parents haven't always been the "old folks". They used to have the very best parties, back in the day. Dad tended bar at "Pops" - a dive on the Seawall in Stratford. Mom loved dropping us off at the bar so she could do whatever with her buddies - I don't really know what she did, but I know she loved getting us out of the car (she'd peel out as soon as we slammed the doors when she dropped us at the parking lot!). We'd walk in, sit at the bar. Dad would automatically hit the button on the little toy guy behind the bar that came out from behind the fence to pee (or else we would beg him to do it and he didn't want that to happen). Then we'd get out sodas with straws and get a table by the window. The old guys would sit with us, and call us "curtain climbers", and "rug rats". We'd drink up the sodas like they were beers at happy hour prices, then go stand by the pool table. The old guys would start their cribbage games back up, and the younger guys would saunter over to the pool table.
The young guys weren't married, had no kids, and treated us like little sisters they actually liked. Dad would toss 4 quarters to one of the guys, that guy would rack the balls, and we'd play pool. High low was the game, and we had our own short sticks. Chalk the sticks, and we'd play till some spoil sport came in and got pissed kids were at the table. Fred, the owner, would tell the guy to shut his mouth (well, I think he said words we weren't supposed to know...), he'd get a chance. My little sister was the best of us - she went to Vegas twice to play in tournaments later on in life.
We also watched the "Wizard of Oz" on that bar TV - we only had black and white at home - that one was color. Fred shut the lights out, and a full bar, us three kids and single guys sat in silence while Judy
Garland tried to get back to Kansas. Also went down to the bar to watch "Heidi", willing to wait till the game was over. Station wasn't though, and that was a very loud and unhappy crowd that sat and grumbled about that "b**tch on the mountain" and those "f**kin' goats".
Dad usually hosted the bar picnic at our house in the "bricks" in Lordship in midsummer. There was a set of garages people rented next to the house, and the rocky driveways made great horseshoe pits (usually 3 sets laid out). Full keg (Rheingold when we lived in the bricks, Schaefer when we moved to Lordship Rd.) in the back yard, clams next to it, long half a hot water heater grill, Stratford Bottling Company soda in the garbage cans. Hotdogs and hamburgs for all. Moms and girlfriends in their lawn chairs, Dads and the guys playing horseshoes or shucking clams. Kids pushing beer out to the players in the driveways, or putting ice down the ladies' shirts, or having to shuck the corn. They had some games for the kids, but the real deal was horseshoes.
By midnight, people with kids started heading home (around the corner - most of the families were local). Guys with no girlfriends sat in the lawnchairs to "finish the keg". Some would make it into our living room floor to sleep, a few would have lots of skeeter bites the next day (not to mention wicked headaches...).
I learned to eat liver, bacon and onion sandwiches on rye bread after those picnics - breakfast served the next day to the fellas that stayed the night. Mom, of course, stayed in bed till all was cleaned up. This was the guys' deal, after all.
The young guys weren't married, had no kids, and treated us like little sisters they actually liked. Dad would toss 4 quarters to one of the guys, that guy would rack the balls, and we'd play pool. High low was the game, and we had our own short sticks. Chalk the sticks, and we'd play till some spoil sport came in and got pissed kids were at the table. Fred, the owner, would tell the guy to shut his mouth (well, I think he said words we weren't supposed to know...), he'd get a chance. My little sister was the best of us - she went to Vegas twice to play in tournaments later on in life.
We also watched the "Wizard of Oz" on that bar TV - we only had black and white at home - that one was color. Fred shut the lights out, and a full bar, us three kids and single guys sat in silence while Judy
Garland tried to get back to Kansas. Also went down to the bar to watch "Heidi", willing to wait till the game was over. Station wasn't though, and that was a very loud and unhappy crowd that sat and grumbled about that "b**tch on the mountain" and those "f**kin' goats".
Dad usually hosted the bar picnic at our house in the "bricks" in Lordship in midsummer. There was a set of garages people rented next to the house, and the rocky driveways made great horseshoe pits (usually 3 sets laid out). Full keg (Rheingold when we lived in the bricks, Schaefer when we moved to Lordship Rd.) in the back yard, clams next to it, long half a hot water heater grill, Stratford Bottling Company soda in the garbage cans. Hotdogs and hamburgs for all. Moms and girlfriends in their lawn chairs, Dads and the guys playing horseshoes or shucking clams. Kids pushing beer out to the players in the driveways, or putting ice down the ladies' shirts, or having to shuck the corn. They had some games for the kids, but the real deal was horseshoes.
By midnight, people with kids started heading home (around the corner - most of the families were local). Guys with no girlfriends sat in the lawnchairs to "finish the keg". Some would make it into our living room floor to sleep, a few would have lots of skeeter bites the next day (not to mention wicked headaches...).
I learned to eat liver, bacon and onion sandwiches on rye bread after those picnics - breakfast served the next day to the fellas that stayed the night. Mom, of course, stayed in bed till all was cleaned up. This was the guys' deal, after all.
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