Olman

He was born in Halifax, Nova Scotia, in 1908. His father, Kirby, was a sergeant major in the Royal Canadian Army til his discharge for bein' a drunk and died of cirosis at 55. His mother, Eunice, was a seamstress. After Kirby died, Eunice immigrated to America with her 3 daughters and 2 sons. She couldn’t take care of them so she farmed them out to foster homes and Olman came up as a ward of the state of Massachusetts.
He had polio as a kid. I remember him playin’ up the limp thing and acting retarded while we were walkin’ in P-town one day. When we kids laughed hysterically, we were scolded by a sweet old lady for making fun of the pitiful man.
Every family has their name for shit. Olman called it ‘Boomies”. One day, while shoppin’ at the grocery store, he called out, “Hey Bub, go pick out a box of Boomies.”
I ran like hell outa there.
He came up during the depression and used his considerable artistic talents to claw his way through. He’d spot a weather beaten sign on a restaurant and offer to spiff it up for a free meal. He landed some fairly lucrative jobs including ad layouts for Look magazine and designed the MaryJane candy wrapper, which is still sold in penny candy stores today.
His older brother was a bully, and rendered beatings when his mood fit.
The girls did worse.
May walked into the ocean after being rejected by a lover.
June was killed in a DUI.
Isabelle, a model and aspiring actress, jumped off the window ledge of a 10-story building.
Olman was a scrapper who died in his sleep at 93 after a life of red meat, booze and Camels.
I think about the mothers who build tombstones on the side of the road
and bury their 23 year olds.
So he’s lying there like a veggie. Judy saw him last.
She visited the dying place to say good-bye. During her vigil, he came alive. He recognized her and talked about the old days and told her he loved her.
That night he flew to his eternal reward. She threw an urn on her wheel and we all signed the wet clay.
Then we burned him.