Springle... The House

Jimmy Black…the Black Mr. Clean. Mom met Jimmy Black because he was our garbage man. This was back in the day before residences had dumpsters. This was when people put out actual garbage cans, and the garbage man had to physically lift these cans and dump the contents into the back of the garbage truck. It was during a time when people knew their garbage man, and mail carrier. When tips and gifts were given for good work, and some holidays (particularly Christmas). Jimmy Black was bald, buff, and wore one gold earring. He had the most beautiful smile, with gorgeous, evenly spaced white teeth. Jimmy's personality could melt snow on a below-zero day. He was one of the most likeable people you ever had the fortune to meet. And, despite him being a garbage man, he always smelled good (even when he was at work). He used all of these charms to become another one of mom's boyfriends. Unlike most of mom's other boyfriends, he was not married. He was our favorite of mom's boyfriends, and we looked forward to his visits. He drove a big ol’, aqua colored, deuce and a quarter (Buick Electra 225). It was Buick’s answer to the Cadillac. Jimmy would come over and take us on “family” outings. He didn’t try to be dad or discipline us. He just made sure we had fun. He would drive us waaaay out to the country (where we lived, city and rural/country were strictly separated) to see and pet farm animals. Something we never would have gotten to do otherwise. Mom never took us anywhere. She refused to own a car (even though she possessed a driver's license and was a good driver). Her philosophy was that she didn't want to own a car because of all the other expenses that came with that ownership…license plates, maintenance, tires, and insurance. So, if we wanted to go somewhere we either took the bus or rode with friends whose parents had cars. There was also the choice of going with our dad whenever we visited him. When Jimmy was driving to the country on roads that hardly had any traffic (outside of the city limits), he would always go faster than the speedometer could register. When he hit that speed, the speedometer would make a lovely ticking sound. We loved it! When I got older, I realized we were not wearing seat belts, and he and my mom had always been drinking. My grandmother’s prayers kept us safe. I also later found out that Jimmy used heroin, and even though he drank and used drugs recreationally he never appeared to be inebriated. I found this out because he would come and “steal” mom’s welfare check out of the mailbox, but he would always pay her back.

Another trip he would take us on would be to Windsor, Ontario, Canada, before it was necessary to have a passport to enter Canada from the United States. He would let us decide whether to go through the tunnel that ran under the Detroit River or go across the Ambassador Bridge. Tony always picked the tunnel, which mom hated because she was claustrophobic. I liked the bridge because you could see really far in all directions. Tony hated this option because you could see through the bridge, over the sides and he was afraid of falling. So, when we went through the tunnel, I kept telling mom that everything was ok. When we went over the bridge, I would tell Tony to pretend the bridge was made of potato chips and we were eating our way across. Or I kept him distracted by helping him throw mom’s cigarettes out of the window one-by-one from the carton she had put in the back seat with us. We hated being trapped in the car with cigarette smoke (which was often.) These things kept him busy enough for us to get across the bridge without him being afraid. I did this over and back for him. So, Jimmy Black was the cool one, there was not another. If it had not been for him, I doubt if we would have been to Canada as children or seen a live animal larger than a dog outside of a zoo or circus, let alone touch one. Jimmy, thank you for expanding our world.