they’d break him in. There was quite a bit of homosexual down there—wolves, punks and all that. I pushed one guy in the river. I don’t know if he came up or not,’cause I ran.
There was always Sally. While you listened to a sermon, they’d feed you a little something, and then you’d go on your way. The missions are pretty horrible because they pre-judge ya. I wanted a flop so I took it. Once in a while somebody would take a nose dive, profess religion. They’d stick around a while just to have a roof. The first time they get enough money to get drunk, they did.
If you got lucky and got yourself a package of cigarettes, Camels was the bit, you put ’em in your socks and your Bull Durham was in your shirt pocket. So the ones that didn’t have would mooch the Bull Durham instead of the Camels.
These kids amaze me today. I mean, they’re smokin’ and a bus comes, and they throw away the whole butt. I can’t. I gotta clinch it. Put it in my pocket. Some days when I’m ridin’ around in buses, I find the next day a half a dozen butts. I put ’em in the ash tray for when I run out of cigarettes.
The locals didn’t care for the bums, they wouldn’t take to ‘em. There were always people bummin’. At back doors, tryin’ to get a handout.
Did they know which doors to knock on?
No, this bit about the code that the old bums had broke down. If it was still being used, they weren’t letting the newcomers know—the nouveau paupers.
Sometimes you’d sleep in a field, if the weather was nice. One time in North Dakota, all I had to cover myself was a road map underneath me and a road map on top of me. I woke up in the morning, there was frost on the road map. It didn’t bother me, I slept. Now I’m paying the penalty. Arthritis.
Kitty McCulloch
“I’m seventy-one and I can still swim.”
THERE WERE many beggars, who would come to your back door, and they would say they were hungry. I wouldn’t give them money because I didn’t have it. But I did take them in and put them in my kitchen and give them something to eat.
This one man came in—it was right before Christmas. My husband had a very nice suit, tailored. It was a black suit with a fine white pin-stripe in it. He put it to one side. I thought he didn’t like the suit. I said to this man, “Your clothes are all ragged. I think I have a nice suit for you.” So I gave him this suit.
The following Sunday my husband was to go to a wake. He said, “Where’s my good suit?” And I said, “Well, Daddy, you never wore it. I—well, it’s gone.” He said, “Where is it gone to?” I said, “I gave it to a man who had such shabby clothes. Anyway, you got three other suits and he didn’t have any. So I gave it to him.” He said, “You’re the limit, Mother.”
One elderly man that had white whiskers and all, he came to my back door. He was pretty much of a philosopher. He was just charming. A man probably in his sixties. And he did look like St. Nicholas, I’ll tell you that. I gave him a good, warm meal. He said, “Bring me a pencil and paper and I’ll draw you a picture.” So he sketched. And he was really good. He was an artist.
(Laughing.) A man came to my door, and I could smell liquor a little. He said, “You don’t suppose you could have a couple of shirts you could give me, old shirts of your husband’s?” I said, “Oh, I’m so very sorry, my husband hasn’t anything but old shirts, really. That’s all he has right now and he wears those.” He said, “Lady, if I get some extra ones, I’ll come back and give them to you.” I said, “Go on, mind your own business.”
And another one, I smelled liquor on his breath, too. He wanted to know if he could have a few pennies. I said, “Are you hungry?” He said, “I haven’t had any food. I’d like some money to buy some food.” I said, “I’ll make you a nice sandwich.” So I made him a sandwich with mayonnaise and chicken and lettuce, a double
There was always Sally. While you listened to a sermon, they’d feed you a little something, and then you’d go on your way. The missions are pretty horrible because they pre-judge ya. I wanted a flop so I took it. Once in a while somebody would take a nose dive, profess religion. They’d stick around a while just to have a roof. The first time they get enough money to get drunk, they did.
If you got lucky and got yourself a package of cigarettes, Camels was the bit, you put ’em in your socks and your Bull Durham was in your shirt pocket. So the ones that didn’t have would mooch the Bull Durham instead of the Camels.
These kids amaze me today. I mean, they’re smokin’ and a bus comes, and they throw away the whole butt. I can’t. I gotta clinch it. Put it in my pocket. Some days when I’m ridin’ around in buses, I find the next day a half a dozen butts. I put ’em in the ash tray for when I run out of cigarettes.
The locals didn’t care for the bums, they wouldn’t take to ‘em. There were always people bummin’. At back doors, tryin’ to get a handout.
Did they know which doors to knock on?
No, this bit about the code that the old bums had broke down. If it was still being used, they weren’t letting the newcomers know—the nouveau paupers.
Sometimes you’d sleep in a field, if the weather was nice. One time in North Dakota, all I had to cover myself was a road map underneath me and a road map on top of me. I woke up in the morning, there was frost on the road map. It didn’t bother me, I slept. Now I’m paying the penalty. Arthritis.
Kitty McCulloch
“I’m seventy-one and I can still swim.”
THERE WERE many beggars, who would come to your back door, and they would say they were hungry. I wouldn’t give them money because I didn’t have it. But I did take them in and put them in my kitchen and give them something to eat.
This one man came in—it was right before Christmas. My husband had a very nice suit, tailored. It was a black suit with a fine white pin-stripe in it. He put it to one side. I thought he didn’t like the suit. I said to this man, “Your clothes are all ragged. I think I have a nice suit for you.” So I gave him this suit.
The following Sunday my husband was to go to a wake. He said, “Where’s my good suit?” And I said, “Well, Daddy, you never wore it. I—well, it’s gone.” He said, “Where is it gone to?” I said, “I gave it to a man who had such shabby clothes. Anyway, you got three other suits and he didn’t have any. So I gave it to him.” He said, “You’re the limit, Mother.”
One elderly man that had white whiskers and all, he came to my back door. He was pretty much of a philosopher. He was just charming. A man probably in his sixties. And he did look like St. Nicholas, I’ll tell you that. I gave him a good, warm meal. He said, “Bring me a pencil and paper and I’ll draw you a picture.” So he sketched. And he was really good. He was an artist.
(Laughing.) A man came to my door, and I could smell liquor a little. He said, “You don’t suppose you could have a couple of shirts you could give me, old shirts of your husband’s?” I said, “Oh, I’m so very sorry, my husband hasn’t anything but old shirts, really. That’s all he has right now and he wears those.” He said, “Lady, if I get some extra ones, I’ll come back and give them to you.” I said, “Go on, mind your own business.”
And another one, I smelled liquor on his breath, too. He wanted to know if he could have a few pennies. I said, “Are you hungry?” He said, “I haven’t had any food. I’d like some money to buy some food.” I said, “I’ll make you a nice sandwich.” So I made him a sandwich with mayonnaise and chicken and lettuce, a double
Similar Books
