Boy On The Marble Steps: Chocolate Fudge and Snow Shovels - A Christmas Story

By Patrick M. Gary

It is 2008 and Buddy, a 62 year old, unattached owner of a bar in South
Baltimore, Maryland discovers that he fathered a son in 1966 prior to going to Vietnam. His son and daughter in law are killed in an auto accident, leaving two grandchildren behind. Buddy is contacted and reluctantly takes custody of the grandchildren that he initially did not believe were his. It is a wonderful Christmas story of a man set in his ways, and now must change his lifestyle with help from a friend of the past. The children are poor and never had a real Christmas. This is where Buddy bonds with them as he shares a story of how it was for him as a kid growing up in South Baltimore in the 1950's. Buddy and his brother Tony would shovel snow and sell fudge their mom made so they might have food on the table and a little something for Christmas. It is a story of love, commitment and lasting friendship that spans over 50 years. It is "Boy on the Marble Steps," Chocolate Fudge and Snow Shovels a Christmas Story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9780982818510

Book preview

Baltimore

Prologue

In 1958, when I was only nine years old, had someone said to me, can you imagine that in fifty-five years in the future, we will be able to click a button and go anywhere in the world! I would have had the disturbed individual carried off in a strait-jacket. Yet as I think back to my child-hood days of growing up in South Baltimore, I could not help but, go back and visit those vary places that brought so many fond memories to me. I live in Western Maryland and visiting Baltimore is a tiring three hour drive. So I sat before my computer and with a press of a button in 2013, fifty-five years later, I entered the magical mystery tour of Google Earth. At a press of a button, I am at the old Cross-Street Market on Light Street; shooting bottle caps from hand-made rubber band guns in the side alleys on Hanover Street; sitting on the cold marble steps of Charles Street, bouncing a pinky ball against the curb on Race Street and riding my scooter box at Riverside Avenue. I remember these streets so well because they were my blocks, neighborhoods, childhood memories, and my life in South Baltimore. As I continue to Google the old neighborhoods, the pictures appear so very clear and inspiringly virtual, or are they virtually inspiring? Well, in any event, this venture meant a great deal to me and usurped a considerable amount of my time and scrutiny. I would zoom in on the sidewalks, the trees planted in front of the homes, the painted screens that were so popular in Baltimore and the rows of marble steps or stoops as some prefer. As I scan the alley ways, I cannot help but think about the rows of neighboring yards that usually had a dog pouncing on the wire fences and creating a disturbance. It was refreshing to see how these neighborhoods were able to sustain the changing times, the level of violence as compared to my day, the infiltration and trafficking of lethal drugs to young kids, the teen pregnancies, vandalism, burglary, and need I say more?

Although, it was so reassuring to know that I could visit my old neighborhoods and stare endlessly at these fairly recent pictures, it is the intangible attributes that carried me back to a deeper and more congruous place that is untouchable by those who never lived it and certainly cannot be found by a click of a button. It is the spirits and voices that echo from the local corner bars, the neighbors scrubbing down their marble steps, and a mother yelling at her kids, hey yous, worsh your hands in the zink, and use hot wooder! South Baltimore in the fifties, was taking the trolley cars downtown to Hutzlers or Hoschel Cones on Howard Street. Then there is Christmas in South Baltimore. For so many kids that could afford to do so, meant visiting other stores such as the Hecht Company on Baltimore and Pine or the May Company on Howard Street and admire the Christmas decorations in the windows. Each store seemed to have a special theme they would display, and you could always bank on a Toyland and a Santa visit at each store. For the less fortunate, such as me and my siblings, of whom there were many, mere torturous Christmas window gawking, attending the holiday parade on the corner of Howard and Saratoga Streets and getting a gift from the Empty Stocking Club was the extent of our Christmas festivities. I must say, there were occasions when our ship was not mutinied and she actually came in, it was then that I recall us getting a gift or two for Christmas. Perhaps, being poor in South Baltimore in the 1950’s actually enriched our pride, ego and determination to do better. Over one half of a century has passed and I still may not be tangibly endowed monetarily, but I still have those joyous memories of my youth. Smelling the chocolate cooking on the stove, watching my mom make cookies and fudge and counting the money we made shoveling snow. The fact that I can reflect upon it and talk about it today makes me the lucky one.

So, Buddy Donavan, a man who was never married, and spent most of his life living alone, except when he was in the service, would be giving a chance to share his stories of how it was like growing up in South Baltimore. Buddy did not have to drive three hours to visit Baltimore nor click a button on Google Earth. In fact, Buddy can walk out on his back deck and see one of many of his childhood apartments just a block or so away. He is the voices and spirits that walk the streets and alley ways of the fifties. He is the greaser, the snotty nose kid busting out a window from playing curb ball, he is the pal standing beside his buddies when they get in trouble, he is the boy near the radio listening to the Baltimore Colts game, or sitting at the soda shop having a lemon phosphate. He is the unfortunate boy of South Baltimore, who is starving for attention, love, warmth and food. He is a lonely, raggedy boy with tattered hand-me-down clothes, numb fingers and feet, selling chocolate fudge door to door and shoveling snow for the neighbors. So, no, Buddy has nothing to brag about, except he was a kid in South Baltimore during the 1950’s and for that, Buddy is the lucky one.

DON’T DRINK AND DRIVE – Down town South Baltimore 1959

Chapter 1

The Accident 2008

It is a cool September evening on a highway outside of Baltimore city. There is an overturned green and white SUV on the opposite side of the street and a red Ford Escort wagon with the front smashed in like an accordion as flames shoot from the rear. Police are lighting flares and waving in other emergency vehicles to the scene. Paramedics and fire fighters are scurrying about to get the bodies from the vehicles. Two police officers approach a young Latino man parked on the side of the road.

Excuse me sir, you okay? The officer asked as he quickly scans the vehicle.

Yes, officer, I’m fine, the witness replies, lighting up a cigarette and flicking the match out the window. I was in the right lane and noticed the Escort weaving in and out between lanes. Looks like he and some lady in the car were yelling at one another. Hell, before you know it he drifts over into oncoming traffic. The van tried to avoid--, he places his hands over his eyes, having difficulty getting the words out, --well, you can see what happened! pointing to the vehicles.

Reporters and camera crews are rushing from their vehicles to capture the event. Later that night an elderly lady is in her living room watching the news of the accident. It is somewhat dark in the room except for the light of the TV. She is wiping tears from her eyes and staring at a picture that she has on her lap.

Oh, my goodness, why? she whispers through quivering lips.

A female reporter continues: The accident occurred approximately seven forty-five this evening when a vehicle headed south bound on!

In South Baltimore at Buddy’s Pub and Grill, Buddy 62, is behind the bar chatting with a few of his regular customers and childhood buddies. It is late and the bar is gradually emptying out. Two other younger men are playing pool and occasionally staring up at the TV. Off from the bar area there is a small diner of five tables. An elderly couple is seated at a table of drinks.

Is this messed up or what? Buddy said, pointing up at the TV, Hey Steve ready for another one?

Sounds good! He runs his hands through his curly grey lochs. "Hell if you have to drink, keep your butt at home or—

--or park it here with us! Buddy said handing Steve a National Boh.

Larry, 61, is seated down a couple stools from Steve.

Are those folks local? He pushes an empty bottle in front of him and gestures for another one.

"Hell, I don’t know. The old man driving the SUV, I believe is out of state – isn’t that what they said?

I didn’t get that part, Steve said taking a sip of his beer.

They ain’t telwin who they are yet, are they? Steve said. Buddy slides a beer in front of Larry and then pops one open for himself. He stares up at the TV and just shakes his head.

Holy crap! There is no way in hell that couple made it out of there alive. Look at that car! Buddy takes a gulp of his beer and lights a cigarette.

Did they say they made it out alive?

Larry grunts. If yous were lisen, the woman is dead and the guy was sent to Hobgins or Mercy hospidal. Da sorry bastid didn’t need to be drinkin and driving. Dats abslutly ignert!

MEL 60, seated at the other end of the bar orders another mix drink. Isn’t that some shit! Two children, Holy Christ! Can you believe that shit? Mel places some cash on the bar.

Larry tossing some peanuts in his mouth, two kids left behind?

Mel stares at Larry and at the TV, "yeah, that’s what they just said. There is a brief moment of silence as everyone listens to the update.

According to the latest report, the driver of the Ford Escort was intoxicated and lost control of the vehicle. The woman in the vehicle was killed immediately and the driver’s condition is considered serious. The couple has two children, a daughter, 12 years old and a son, 9 that were staying with a neighbor. The family is from Baltimore and as we --

Buddy takes the remote and flips through the channels.

Anybody mind? I can’t watch anymore of this!

Na – you can turn that crap off! Larry said looking at the time. MEL yells up the bar at Steve, Did they say Balamer?

"Hell, from here? They may have been in here, who knew!

What do you say Bud?"

I hate to think I could have served that sorry bastit a drink and find out that he kilt someone from a DWI, and has two kids? I get sick thinking about it!

Mel stirring his drink, It’s this new generation of dope heads! Parents don’t want to be responsible anymore --

-- Are ya kidden me? Larry staring around at the other guys and laughing at Mel!

"What’s so damn halaris? Mel responded.

New generation of dopers, Larry asked. Hell parents should be responsible the day the child is born, right? Larry is shaking his head.

We didn’t have all of this shit growing up! Mel holds his drink up in the air. Here’s to when we were kids! Mel looks at his glass, Hey Buddy put some more wooder in this scotch okay?

Buddy taps Mel’s glass with his bottle.

Well Mel, I’ll drink to that. Respect for authority is long gone. We are spose to be in a world of global technology and half of these kids out here have an IQ of a head of frigging lettuce. This asshole is in his late thirties or forties, with a wife in the car and driving drunk. Where in the hell does that come from? Is that how he was raised? And where in the hell are the kids? I never had kids and damn sure don’t needum around, but they don’t need that crap!

Mel takes a slug of his drink and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. Hey boss! We weren’t zacly angels when we were kids! We told our parents and other adults a thing or two, didn’t we?

Larry rubs his face and eyes. Let’s change the subject! Buddy, get me one more for the paymet, I ain’t drivin -- I don’t need one for the road!

You don’t drive cause they took your damn license away! Steve responds sarcastically.

Hey Stevey boy, if I want any shit from you I’ll squeeze your dopey looking head!

Mel stands up and slides his glass to the side. Well brothers, I think I’m going to head on out.

Steve throws a 10 on the counter. Hey Mel, you ain’t going anywhere, I’m getting you another scotch and wooder, so dare!

Mel pulls his pants up and brushes his hair back with his