I worked in peoples homes and apartments for forty eight years.

For thirty eight years I worked for my self, having apprenticed under my father for ten years before that.

In those thirty eight years, I worked in around 68,000 apartments and homes. Yeah, that seems like a lot. It was.

I always took time to look at the photos on the walls. Most of the time I worked in occupied apartments and I could see family photos around me as I worked. I was not a snooper as some people are.

I often wondered if I ever would see someone in the photos, that I knew.

I saw all configurations and permutations of American families possible.

Near the end of my career, I finally happened on to a photo in someone’s house that I recognized. It was just a block from where our restaurant had been.

I was working in a duplex for a fellow about thirty. I was probably about fifty. I looked at the photo and it was someone that I knew. I couldn’t believe it.

I asked the young man who it was and it turned out to be his father. I had known him because he played in a band that consisted of all brothers and cousins who happened to play quite often in our dancehall.

The leader of the band was named Bob, and I took saxophone lessons from him for a sometime. I love music, but apparently have no talent in that arena.

Of course by this time all of those men from the band were long dead, sadly. I didn’t tell the fellow that his father and I didn’t get along very well.

That might have been because we didn’t have much in common or the time to get to know each other. I was just a child, after all.

Let me say here, that my life style had me hanging out with adults 90 percent of the time and very little time was spent with children of my own age other than when I was in school.

I’m not complaining, it’s just a fact.

That situation did create a portion of my personality, most certainly. I am comfortable talking in front of large groups of people and as a child worked around adults in many stages of drunkenness and rudeness.

I often had to come out and mop the floor when someone had to much to drink and had an accident, if you get my drift.

No brag, just fact.

On two other occasions, I ended up working in the home of a former teacher from high school.

Neither of them remembered me, as I was a well behaved child and young adult.

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