Slum Lords Who Needs Them
Posted by: bigguyhereagain <bigguyhereagain@...>
piano listed as a true story. It is listed in snoops as being a fake.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Slum Lords Who Needs Them
By Carol Roach
As one can imagine, growing up poor meant living in places that were
not for the weak or tender hearted. You had to be tough to grow up in
a slum. Life was hard and you had to roll with the punches. My
grandmother and I lived alone for the first 18 years of my life in
the same second story cold water flat. For the first 15 years we did
not have a bath or a shower. We had a toilet in a little cubby hole
and not even a sink to wash up afterwards. You had to leave the
commode and come out into the kitchen to wash your hands. In the
evening when nobody was around, you bathed with a wash cloth, soap,
and towel at the kitchen sink. Finally when I was already 15 we got a
bathtub. It took about four years of nagging for the landlord to
finally put one in. Ours was connected and worked. I cannot say the
same for the neighbours next door. They got the bathtub but it was
never connected and they ended up using it to store dirty clothes.
The house was really cold in the wintertime. When I was really young,
my grandmother had me go to bed in my snowsuit because she was afraid
that I might freeze during the night. The old oil stove heated the
kitchen but not much more. I remember from the age of 9 until the age
of 17, I had to walk two full blocks in the dead of winter to the oil
stand where I deposited 25 cents to fill up the oil bottle and drag
it back home. I can remember the cold nights just like it was
yesterday, and furthermore, I can still conjure up that stinky smell
of oil that would invade my nostrils and almost make me sick. However
at least we had the oil stove. The neighbours next door had a wood
stove and I would also make a trip with Johnny and Jackie, the next
door twins, to the railroad track and pick up the old pieces of wood
to take home for them to heat their home with. It was dark and scary
and we had to do it at night so we would not get caught stealing
them.
My grandmother was a great housekeeper, she was known as Mrs. Clean
throughout the neighbourhood. My grandmother would even wash and iron
the old rags she used to clean that old oil stove with. Her
reputation surpassed her and people would come from all over to see
her house and ask if it was true she washed and ironed these dirty
oily rags. However, try as she might to keep our house clean the
neighbours were dirty and the block was always infested with
cockroaches. Fortunately, our landlord would send the exterminator
every time she complained.
My grandmother had another use for rags as well. The walls in the
flat were crumbling. They were in no condition to be painted. My
grandmother had to wallpaper over them. But she could not wallpaper
over the huge holes that the crumbling plaster made in the walls. She
would have to fill up the holes with old rags in order to smooth out
the walls before wallpapering. Once the job was done you could not
tell what condition the walls were in beneath the wall paper. It was
a truly professional job.
Yes it was a horrible place but it was home. Furthermore, my
grandmother had no intention of moving. You see the only income that
came in was the board money that my mom provided for me each week.
That was $10.00 a week. The rent was $40.00 a month and my
grandmother would take in washing and baby-sit just to put food on
our table. As a result, my grandmother inevitably got behind in her
rent.
Fortunately for us, Mr. Snarch, was a kindly slum lord. He knew my
grandmother's desperate situation and he allowed her to pay what she
could when she could. He never demanded his money or threatened to
evict her as he did with other tenants. I knew for a fact that he did
this because when I was little he used to take me on his rounds for
rent collection. He liked me and felt sorry for both myself and my
grandmother. As he expressed to my grandmother on several occasions,
he was never blessed with daughters. He had two sons though.
Therefore, I was like the little girl he never had. He could never
understand how my mother or father could just abandon me the way they
did. Even though my mother did pay my board money, he judged her as a
terrible mother nonetheless.
On one occasion when he came for the rent money he noticed that my
grandmother was particularly stressed out that evening. Upon
questioning her about it he found out that I needed glasses badly.
The principle had sent home a note saying I could not see the
blackboard at school and this situation had to be rectified as soon
as possible. My grandmother had no money, she asked my mother and my
father and both of them claimed they could not afford to buy me
glasses either. She was at her wits end and didn't know what to do.
Furthermore she was upset with me as she could get a pair for me from
the Canadian Red Cross, but they were old fashioned, and all the kids
in school would laugh at me. I threatened if I had to wear those ugly
glasses I would not go to school. I already had to suffer the
indignity of wearing secondhand clothes from the Salvation Army and
being laughed at. Getting glasses from these charities was just too
much to ask of an 11 year at the time.
I sat there quietly as she told him all about how ungrateful I was
while sinking further and further down into my chair as she spoke.
Much to my surprise however, he agreed with me. He said that a
beautiful young girl such as I should not have to wear those ugly
glasses and be humiliated in front her friends. At this point both my
grandmother and I were almost in tears as she threw her hands up in
the air and asked what could she do what ever could she do.
Mr. Snarch surprised us both that evening because he volunteered to
buy me a pair of glasses. My grandmother though happy replied that
she did not have the money to pay him back for it and he answered her
by saying "don't worry about it, pay what you can when you can" for
he knew that would be the only way she would ever except the gift. He
also knew very well that she would never be able to pay the bill.
There was one condition though and that was we were not allowed to
tell his tenants for obvious reasons. But what Mr. Snatch did for me
that evening was a true act of love surpassing anything that any
landlord has ever done for any tenant as far as I am concerned. Now I
ask you the question slum lords who needs them anyhow? I can honesty
say we did!
GOD FORGIVE ME WHEN I WHINE
Today upon a bus I saw a lovely maiden
with golden hair;
I envied her, she seemed so happy,
and Oh, I wished I were so fair...
When, suddenly, she rose to leave,
I saw her hobble down the aisle...
She had one foot and wore a crutch,
but as she passed, a smile...
Oh, God forgive me when I whine...
I have two feet...
the world is mine.
And when I stopped to buy some sweets,
the lad who served me had such charm;
He seemed to radiate such good cheer,
his manner was so kind and warm...
I said, "It's nice to deal with you,
such courtesy I seldom find."
He turned and said, "Oh, thank you sir!"
and then I saw that he was blind.
Oh, God forgive me when I whine...
I have two eyes...
the world is mine.
Then, walking down the street
I saw a child with eyes of blue...
He stood and watched the others play;
it seemed he knew not what to do...
I stopped a moment, then I said,
"Why don't you join the others dear?"
He looked ahead without a word...
and then I knew he could not hear...
Oh, God forgive me when I whine...
I have two ears...
the world is mine.
With feet to take me where I'd go,
with eyes to see the sunset glow,
with ears to hear what I should know ...
I'm blessed indeed ...
The world is mine...
Oh, God forgive me when I whine...
Have a Blessed Day
Dave and Barbara
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