Blogger Award Special Post

My only follower, Perri at Lesser Apricots has graciously awarded me with a blogger award which I am thinking means I need to share with you readers (whoever you might be) 7 things about myself in my blog. (Correct me if I'm wrong Perri.)

1) I always match my socks and underwear to my outfit if I can, if I can't match then I go neutral light or dark.

2) When I'm excited and happy my childhood Connecticut Long Island sounding accent dominates my speech over the Boston accent aquired in my adult life.

3) I named my current cat Psyche because it means soul in Greek and she is the  closest to a soulmate relationship I've had in my life so far.

4) I have had many jobs but have never felt as comfortable and respected for myself and my contribution as I do in my current job at Seaport Academy.

5) I love being female and all the fun stuff that goes along with it, hair styling, make-up, jewelry, smelly stuff, clothes, clothes and more clothes...and shoes too!

6) I always have at least four to five books on my bedside table. The two tarot books have been a fixture and a daily practice for over a year now, in addition I have one fiction, one non-fiction, and sometimes an additional spiritual book.



7) I started this blog as a way to start writing about my experiences in the South End when I was a young woman because I have stories to tell just aching to come out, and I always have to have something to work on to stretch myself to learn how to do something new and grow my brain.

Thanks for reading this any of you who read Perri's blog. And thanks to my friends on Facebook who might be reading it too. I guess I am an official member of the blogger community now!

Musica de la Noche

View from Villa Victoria & Tremont end of Upton St.

My first night in the house was one of those hot summer nights when you really wish you didn't live in the city. The temperature inside was the same eighty-two degrees it was outside at equal humidity. Of course I'd moved in on the hottest day of the year. I got the room all set up with my meager but precious belongings, and went downstairs to shower. When I got back upstairs and into bed, I threw off the covers and arranged my curtain to make the most of the whatever air might move across my bed and so to have some modicum of modesty from being viewed by the neighbors.

Then the music began...the Latin beat I'd heard in the shower, laughter, party noise, all in Spanish which I recognized from my language classes in high school. I had grown up insulated and unaware of the lifestyles and cultures of other nationalities. I was very much a small town white girl who was lying there soaking in the foreign sounds of these people who were having such a good time singing and playing music on the sidewalks of the city on this hot summer night. It was my first exposure to salsa music and the immigrant language of the inner city. That was my first cultural night music, musica de la noche, music of the night. The other night music, music of the house, had nothing to do with the neighbors but everything to do with the residents and the location of the bedrooms in relation to the common spaces.
 
 My first room at Upton St. was at the top of the stairs, one flight up from the main entry to the house. The 8 by 8 foot room shared one wall with the living room. Typical of Victorian row houses, the door was larger than modern construction and was topped by a glass transom to allow air flow through the building. The rest of the entry wall was shared with the smaller than closet sized toilet to the immediate left of  the bedroom door. The toilet was tucked so tightly into the space under the eaves that to use it one had to turn around and face out, and then sit - before closing the door. Even then, tall people's knees, hit the door. Guys couldn't quite get in close enough to pee without cranial and eave connection. Better to stand in the doorway. The main bathroom was one flight down, directly under my room. To the right of the entry door, across from the water closet, was the living room for the group of six permanent roommates and their various overnight guests. Directly across from the door when entering the bed room was a twin platform bed "built-in" under the window. It was really just a mattress on a piece of plywood mounted on some kind of jury-rigged system of wooden boxes. The window was huge, taking up most of the wall space over the bed. It was the size of a twin mattress as it took the width of the Indian print spread I hung on it to cover it and the same covering was the bedspread on the bed, (domestic goddess at a young age). This was always the first room to be moved into and out of in the house. Not the best place to be for the underlying reason of the room's location in the house. This bedroom was filled with the sounds of the night.

 That first night, after waking up twice to the sound of peeing and flushing of the toilet out side my bedroom door, I realized I was in for more night music than just that of the Puerto-Ricans from the Villa Victoria housing behind Upton St.. Because of the bathroom locations, the four guys who had bedrooms on the top floor, used the most convenient one, only one flight down instead of two, the one outside my room. Because the room was so small, no-one ever closed the door, so the sound was exacerbated like a small echo chamber. It sounded so close as if I were standing right there along side him. That night was just the beginning of the revelations of the Upton St crew's repertoire of night music.

Upton St residents at number 36 in 1977 were typical young people of the times. We were post "hippies" and pre "me", some called us the lost generation. But what we knew about ourselves was that we were free spirits and we liked to party. Parties were part of our lives and happened regularly - planned and impromptu. Many started when someone brought people home from somewhere else or even just invited a date home for the night. The stairways, bathrooms, kitchen and living room were rarely vacant of any person. Someone was always wondering around, or sleeping around. And I could hear it all from the best room in the house for not sleeping. Night music was party music, and party people rarely sleep.

The night music was the reason that as soon as I could, I moved across the hall to the bedroom on the front of the house near the kitchen. Then at least I could listen to my own radio and not have to hear the competing beats of rock music and salsa. And more importantly, not feel like I was standing with the guys at a urinal most of the evening. The experience was lasting as I never again picked a room next to the bathroom in a house shared with other people, and I always walk the neighborhood, both day and night to check it out. Always best to know what sounds one will hear in the night.