Ralph

It’s much nicer on this side of the viaduct. The houses all have lawns, not just grass, plus garages. Everyone’s got a lot more money, is why. The fathers all wear suits and ties to work and carry briefcases. My dad wears a green shirt and pants and pushes a broom around. But it’s not because he’s dumb, because he’s not dumb, he’s smart. But he didn’t finish high school. He was a rebel, like Johnny Yuma.

Johnny Yuma was a rebel,

He roamed through the West...

So now he’s a janitor.

If I became a Major Leaguer I’d make enough money for all of us to live together on this side of the viaduct, and instead of taking in ironing Mom would have a garden—tulips or carrots or something—and Dad would retire from being a janitor and make things in the garage out of wood—bookshelves and birdhouses—and come to all my games, telling everyone around him, “That’s my boy out there,” but not in a drunk way, he wouldn’t drink anymore, why would he?

But I guess that’s a pretty big laugh, the Major Leagues I mean, after today I mean.

“Sure hope I can walk, Ralph, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah.”