Ramblings Of A Man Named Joseph Carro

Posts tagged “Story

Danforth Street

Posted on December 7, 2018

I walked with a hobble down Danforth Street in Portland, Maine. It was around fifty degrees, and the air had a chill to it. There was nothing going on that I could see, and the night seemed extra quiet. Still, as is my habit since I don’t trust people, I kept looking behind me to see if I was being shadowed. I could never quite shake that feeling. Nobody there, of course. Better safe than sorry, though. My right foot had something wrong with it. A bone that was out of place, a cramp…something. Whatever it was – it made me limp along. I didn’t pay much attention to it. It would walk itself out. That’s how foot things usually worked, right? After a…

My Friend Mikey

Posted on December 5, 2018

Sometimes, I think back about friends I had who are no longer with me. This doesn’t have to have anything to do with death, mind you. Sometimes, as people, we just outgrow each other. You move, you go to different schools, you get married. Those kinds of things happen and are pretty inevitable in life. One of these friends I had who fits into this category was named Mike. We all knew him affectionately as Mikey. We met one summer when my mom moved us to Shawmut Street in Lewiston, Maine. We lived in a crappy apartment, infested with fleas and in a bad part of town at the time. We didn’t notice much of that as children, though, only remembering it when we…

Excelsior: My Tribute To Stan Lee

Posted on November 13, 2018

*Artwork by me.   I don’t have any photos with Stan Lee. I was never lucky enough to meet the man in real life – So, on top of that, I also don’t have any touching anecdotes about how I met him in an elevator once, or how I sat down next to him at a convention, or anything else I’ve been grateful to read about him on the day of his death. Stan Lee never encountered me once during the 95 years he roamed our Earth – he didn’t know I even existed. And yet the mark he left on me was indelible, and though he didn’t know I existed – he knew lots of people LIKE me. I was an archetype in…

Ludo

Posted on November 3, 2018

I’ve always had a soft spot for cats, dogs, and other household pets. When I was just a boy, we had a black cat we’d named Blackie (I know that sounds racist, but he was named actually after a local Frenchman who ran a convenience store right next door to us – the store was named “Blackie’s”). Blackie was my first ever pet, and as such – he earned a particularly love-filled spot in my heart that never completely healed when we were forced to get rid of him. I was only four or five years old when we did. Fast forward to me now in my thirties, and I have yet to have a pet to call my absolute own, though I now…

The Barn

Posted on October 18, 2018

I remember the time when we lived in the big barn in the woods. We slept up in the hayloft with a small black and white television that constantly played old Abbot and Costello movies. We all went to the bathroom in a giant bucket when we needed to, and I remember the cold morning I urinated on a drowned lunar moth – its wings spread across the liquid human waste in a sad parody of flight. I felt sorry for it, even though I was simultaneously scared of its size. Many of my mornings there were spent in a dirty van that smelled of carved wood, of burned wood, of cigarettes and cigars and cheap beer. The metal floor was covered in sawdust.…

Bob

Posted on September 23, 2018

The last time I ever saw Bob alive, he took me aside toward the end of one of his shifts. Business had slowed, we were cleaning up. I was rearranging some product in the front of the store. “Hey,” he said, rolling up his apron and throwing on his hat. His voice was a bit gravelly, and he cleared his throat as he continued. “I just want to tell you that I appreciate working with you.” “Thanks, Robert,” I said. “I appreciate that.” He nodded, throwing on his jacket. I had been kneeling and slowly brought myself up from my knees and onto my feet, dusting my hands off at my sides. “It gets a little crazy here sometimes,” he continued. “I like that…

The Jacket

Posted on August 26, 2018

I remember the morning very well. My wife (at the time) and I were house-sitting for an older couple in a bright and spacious home in Old Orchard Beach here in Maine. Before we left for the day to her parent’s house in Limington to celebrate the holidays with them, we each decided to give each other a Christmas gift. She handed me the package and I remember slowly tearing the paper from around a box, the kind that clothes are usually wrapped in, and then pulling out a faux-leather jacket. I smiled, thanked her, and kissed her on the lips. “Thank you,” I said. “A leather coat? So cool. Haven’t had one of these since I worked at Timberland.” She smiled and waited…