I have been wandering the internet and am floored where some people ended up. Now I worked with dangerous types in some jobs and it is no shock when they end up in a police blotter. Some of the coworkers in various jobs were in the criminal justice system long before they met me. It is no great shock
when a truckman who did time goes back.
The world of fashion sales is a disgusting vile place. The most honest of the lot is the old mafia truckmen. It is a morally perverse place where throats are cut, drug use is not too secret, all types of sexual hijinks and bribery are well known. One of the best moves I did for my soul was to get as far away from these types as possible. At least in the distribution end the workers were a higher class version of the transients I knew at the hotels. The drug abuse wasn't bad but gamblers and thieves were common. The folks were okay in spite of their ethical lapses. In my area I created a type of family attmosphere charged with my never say die attitude.
I had many salesmen and women I worked with. They are like butterfies in that they live beautiful short lives and die in their 40's. Their youth is used up and they are no longer cool and they can't sell a thing. One salesmen was like a brother to me. He was a partner but things didn't go well. His marriage was long busted and he has drifted from company to company in irrelevancy. I offer to treat him for lunch as it helps him remember the days when he was it.
Another salesman I knew was real good. He slept with anything that moved to make a sale. He was almost a cartoon of your ethically challenged salesman and he made top dollar at least 250000 back in the 90s. He founded his own line that failed, his marriage failed. This is just the way of that industry. Unfortunately he was convicted of some type of sex crime with someone under the legal age. Perhaps, I shouldn't be as surprised that he has fallen down and now sells insurance in FLA.
It is a greater curse to have it all and lose it than to never have it at all. I am content serving the public and reading a series of never ending books. I might year for the buddies from my days in the Catskills or the Fashion Industry but I am in a better place. I pen happy endings for the most part. There are times I miss being "the man" but it an odd journey we take through life.
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I, too, have been looking up some of my old friends on the Internet. No exciting types except that the class clown became a very prominent private detective in Hollywood.
I did learn, however, that the minister who performed our wedding ceremony died some years back of cancer. He was so young! Not even 50!
Most of my friends went on to be much more prosperous than I. C'est la vie. It is obvious from my research that those prosperous ones aren't particularly happy.
I guess life is full of surprises.
Being more prosperous is not something that would bother me as by nature I am the type to say good for you.
Some of these finds are mysterious.
Yet I am convinced it is much better
to have never had it then to have had it and lost it. As I never reached the upper statospheres except for a two year period when I lived on Fifth Avenue it is no big deal.
Even when I lived on Fifth, I cooked my own meals and was very modest. A good book a cold drink and a gentle breeze was all I needed. The pretentious showing of wealth was not for me.
I had a high school friend look me up, she saw something I'd written in the paper and somehow found a sister of mine and wrote to her.....it's been fabulous! I've seen her maybe five times in 1 1/2 years and we picked up like we hadn't had a halt to our friendship of nearly 30 years!
It's sad to find someone we remember's died, particularly died young...
Beak...you've known fascinating people......lucky them!
Z
Lost in the discussion of the Catskills was it really was what happened next after vaudville. The focus has been on the comedians but there were other acts. People read plays and did musicals. There were all types of dancers.
There were Yiddish folks sonds, opera and the discussion of books, history set against a changeing world. My parents are somewhat unusual in that they were both Broadway buffs and into painting. In order to get me to go to Ballet would require firearms. They also loved the opera and were ordinary middle class folk.
It is funny but when I lived on Fifth Avenue with a supermarket heiress they assumed she was civilizing me. In reality she had never been to a show or an art gallery.
I have litterally been in three seperate career paths. Catskills to Garment Center was classic. Garment center to federal officer is unheard of. I envy those who stay in one place and don't have to reinvent themselves.
Oddly, the Catskill days come in handy when I used to MC dinners for Guyanese charities. I did that a few times and it doubles the reciepts. However, I am not planning any more as it is alot of work. I usually just make a donation
these days.
The wheel turns, Beak. The wheel turns.
I found out that a woman I lived with for a couple years had died of cancer last November at 52.
My last memory of her was my storming out of the apartment after she returned from taking my car to Vegas without telling me. It was a stormy relationship.
I don't mind that they're more prosperous. Some got that way on their own; some in other ways not so, ahem, legal or moral.
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