Page 56 - WTP VOl. X #6

Can’t Get to Heaven (continued from preceding page)
her straps in hand, laughingly ready to let them go. I was fascinated but bewildered that these images came from my father.
Cathy and I checked out every matchbook when my mother wasn’t looking, which was often, since she was regularly at the Red Lite. Cathy ran around the house lamenting her flat chest and proclaimed, “just laugh it off!”
Cathy did not understand, as I did, the critical im- portance of keeping secret the cellars of Mur- phy’s saloon. One day, as we sat on the roof of our garage, in the trashy Murphy style that seemed wonderfully rebellious to some of the neighbor- hood kids, my sister was about to let slip this shameful information. I could see it coming and jumped off the roof, shouting insanely that I had
to go to the bathroom and headed indoors, where I fully intended to stay forever.
By then, however, I had heard my father’s tirades about how Mr. Denio, the man who sold us our lovely Wauwatosa home, had cheated us and we had to sell. It made no sense and I didn’t want to go, but I was embarrassed by how long the “For Sale” sign stood on our lawn, and the periodic questions about our prog- ress from Mr. Mendini, whose son Dan played pickup baseball games with me.
I always offered the vaguest replies, as though the sign was really just a lawn ornament and we were quite likely to remain his next-door neighbor forever, which was my fervent hope. Mr. Mendini, in turn, would offer a knowing smile, which suggested noth- ing was so entertaining as the convolutions of the Murphys while forgiving me entirely for the bad luck of being part of such a strange family.
When they learned I was moving to West Milwau- kee, the name meant nothing to my classmates. It was simply part of the “sou side,” which seemed
an inconceivable destination. The city’s South Side was a punchline, along with the “Polacks” who lived there. This time it was my good friends doing the singing, so the message was less barbed than the “cellars of Murphy’s saloon.” They had cheekily adapted a hit tune by an R&B group of the day to wish me luck on “South Street, South Street.” But it still stung.
Murphy is an award-winning journalist, longtime editor of Narrative magazine features, published poet, and produced playwright based in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
PA23 – DSCF1316
photo montage/mixed media 11'' x 9''
By Jeanne LaCasse
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