Ukies--1. Adventures in Ukrainian School

1. Ukies

Adventures in Ukrainian School

Things that were or weren’t …

My earliest memories were of things Ukrainian -- the language we spoke, the people we mingled with, the school I went to, the dreams and hopes that we had…I thronged myself with the possibilities and adventures of the neighborhood. The little enclave became a world to me, which maybe lasted 9, 10 years before I turned around and found myself in other neighborhoods with vastly different dreams and quests.

Still in memory I go back to them…How true are they? Are my recollections all fabricated? Can it be possible they don’t even exist for real? Where are those that can confirm these memories, these recollections? And are there any who can say “Yes, he had those dreams! But that was oh so long ago….Too bad he woke up….”

I stand now and look about me….More bars, more girls, more drunks carousing through the streets…I stand, I smile, a new school day is repeating itself....

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Running from school

On my very first day in school when I was young and little and scared too, I saw a boy run away from school. He was an older boy in a much higher class but it seemed a quest I had to try too. I never knew his name or if his flight was successful. I just watched him climb over a fence and disappear down the street…

And no one said a thing….

I had to try that too…and in dreams I did…

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Bouffant dress

It was 1960 when a few girls still wore bouffant dresses and little jacklets shielding their breasts from my eyes that were peering out just to catch a glimpse of flesh, which I barely ever saw…

I was in the 7^th grade and 14 years old. I was a man…well, a half-man without a woman, and hungry for them at every turn I made as I walked down the street. And on the Lower East Side there were many beauties to be had, or so I thought, ready to give it away…. Just that week JFK made his speech about asking for it, and that’s all I ever thought of….I assumed it was permissible.

And then I saw her, a crinoline sex-pot but actually nothing but a dog in her looks, like putting on a dress by a garbage man and looking the part. I had seen her before in church on Sundays, my dick alert. And from a distance she was divine, a dream come true, but up close and you’d squirm with gagging as you ran from her. How many times did I see guys rub themselves as she neared then squirm out of her nearness as she came closer? Put a bag over her head, I heard older guys say, then she’ll be alright. But I never saw her with a man at her side; she always alone, though prettily made up, with white gloves on her hands and a thin purse hovering at her waist.

I had decided I didn’t care how ugly she was, I was going to get me some…

I followed her after mass to 5^th street and Avenue A, right by the Con Ed station, where they made the electricity and she was certainly given me a spark. Each time as we walked -- I some distance behind her -- she would turn as if looking for someone -- I was sure she had me in her sights.

It’s amazing how women dressed back then --yards of crinoline and nylons that seemed ripe for taking off, and slowly…because that’s what I intended to do…

I saw she was walking much slower now, then the hurried pace she kept up after church, so she must have come to her street and was now talking it easy.

I increased my pace and was at the bottom step looking up at her as she was going upstairs. Man was I hard! What a sight! I could see her garters holding up her hose under the wide waisted crinoline dress she had on. It was all I could do to expose myself right there before her….Then I looked up at her face and saw her looking down at me….

Oh God, was she ugly! Thin but emaciated like she had been on a diet much too long; her bones very clear and evident, as if ready to snap and break. But even at the short distance she looked more like a man dressed up as a woman. The thought of putting a bag over her face was valid but how could I get near her to do that? I steeled myself and took a step up. I sensed she hadn’t moved a step…was she awaiting me?

Near the top I took a chance and looked at her again. Oh, God, did I want to puke! Holy shit, she was disgusting! I suddenly grew very afraid. I turned around and bounded down the stairs I had just climbed up, took a few steps and looked back to see what I have saved myself from…

She looked very downcast and sad; from the corner of her eye it looked like she was wiping something. Hell, I thought, what the fuck? Why not?

I wanted to run back to her…but her front door slammed….

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to be continued...