West Side Diary — Memoirs of my Cleveland childhood

Approaching Fulton Road from Keiper Court. The salt box was roughly where the guys are standing.

I remember the first time I ever saw a drunk passed out on the street. When I was a little kid, we lived in an alley behind the Lorain-Fulton movie theater. One day I was walking down the alley with my mother and, when we got to Fulton Road, there was a disheveled guy sleeping on a salt bin.

The city used to put wooden rock salt bins on street corners during the winter.

I asked my mother what was wrong with the guy.

“Nothing,” she said. “He’s just dopey.”

I remember thinking how shitty it was that one of the Seven Dwarves had grown up to be a drunk.

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One thought on “West Side Diary — Memoirs of my Cleveland childhood

  1. Pingback: The Allure of Alleys – spurnpikersjournal

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