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The first salesman
I ever encountered
visited our 6th grade classroom
with book catalogs.
He wore a plaid jacket
that was louder than his voice.
But the salesman was
so funny and entertaining,
thirty students in Mr. Bauer's class
were determined to sell
as many books as possible.
Whoever "sold" the most books
would be honored
with a free dinner
for his/her family at
In 1961,
I was not
a serious book reader
but this was a competition
and I was all for it:
All I had to do
was think of it
as a sporting event.
On the handball court,
I was the best barefoot player
in Whitestone Park.
When we played tackle football there,
I was the hardest person to tackle
because I only played with
kids who were at least
two years younger than me.
I had won three bowling trophies
but they all had to be returned
when we got caught cheating.
By cheat or tall order,
I was determined to win
this book-selling game.
There were a lot of people
in my extended family
who liked books
and I was ready to contact
all of them.
BUT
some of my
neighboring cousins
got to them before I did,
including seven books
my parents ordered
from my cousin Richard
whom I hated for two weeks.
***
If the day the books were delivered
to our classroom
was Opposite Day,
I would have won
the bookselling contest.
I had ordered four
books about athletes
for myself
(at my parents' expense, of course)
but all of
were sold out.
They did, however,
pay for a book for my sister, Linda.
I turned out to be the only student
in Mr. Bauer's class
to make less than two "sales."
So when Mr. Bauer
called my name,
the salesmen proclaimed
"LITTLE WOMEN is the only book
for this little boy."
"This little boy
broke into his piggy bank
who has cerebral palsy."
That comeback shushed
my laughing classmates.
I could have killed that salesman
and probably would have done so
if I hadn't been so embarrassed
and forced to lie through my teeth
about my sister.
(Her only physical handicap
was that I wasn't wrapped up
in her arms.)
Linda Oliverio was actually
the hula-hoop champion
of 6th Avenue in Whitestone.
She could throw a football
further than anyone I knew.
I never played football on her team
because my ten year-old sister
always threw the ball
much further
than I could run.
Anyway...
the salesman
really had nothing to worry about
as far as someone rubbing him out
because twelve year-old boys
are much better liars
than killers
BUT
the absolute truth is this:
My sister's brother
would have been
the hula-hoop champion
if I didn't have
a sneezing attack
after 250 hoopies
!!!
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Footnotes
My sister's brother has gone
a total of sixty-nine years
without ever reading anything written by
Louisa May Alcott.
This page exists
only because I just read about
Between 1956 and 1975,
I patronized FREDDY'S PIZZERIA
at least 200 times .
When I revisited there in 2001,
the quality of the pizza
was still other-worldly
and there was instant recognition
between the owner and myself.
The owner's name is Angelo
and his brother Freddy owns
a restaurant called
ANGELO'S PIZZERIA.
I was flattered by how well
Angelo remembered me.
His first words to me were:
I'm not gonna have to
throw you out of my restaurant
again, I hope.
I held the dubious distinction
of being thrown out of his pizzeria
more than anyone else
but my family spent
so much money there,
Angelo never said
an adverse word
to my parents about me.
AND THEN
—God bless my Goombah—
Angelo gave me
a free slice of pizza.
That had never happened before.
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