Just as I have my own memories of Kinsman Hall, so do all the other people who lived there during the course of its existence. Although many of our memories may be similar, each person’s memories are as unique and deeply felt as mine are to me. We all laughed, loved and lived through those years. We also cried, felt fear and suffered at the hands of others. At times, we even suffered at our own hands. Some moments stand out more than others in my trip down memory lane as my mind races across the span of time I lovingly call my "time warp." Aptly named due to how I always feel a void whenever I come in contact with most everything from that two year period. To this day, I still hear a song every now and then that I can’t place or hear a reference to a movie or a television show that was popular then. I even draw a blank over historical events that happened then.
As my head fills with familiar faces, I can hear their voices. Most memories make me smile. The ones that don’t are ones I carry with me, but in place where bad experiences and mistakes are stored. Memories were made everywhere, but when I think of "the fam" as a whole, I think mostly of the dining room. For most of us, the dining room was where we could just be ourselves and for a short while, forget where we were as we laughed, chatted, played various games and listened to staff selected music.
Free time consisted of time spent interacting with others. We rarely were able to watch television, but had a steady supply of music and a great sound system thanks to all the family and friends who donated money towards its purchase. Maybe the founders of Kinsman Hall felt about television the same way as many people feel about it today. For so many people television is an escape and a way to avoid interaction with others. Since isolation was used as a fundamental tool to gain control of a person, banning television watching from everyone’s daily routine made sense. It was just one more way to keep us in the dark and focused solely on the Kinsman Hall lifestyle. In reality, whatever contact we had with the outside world primarily filtered in from whatever staff deemed acceptable or from what people learned about while on visits or through phone conversations with family members. Those residents who were trusted to go into Jackman for social occasions or who received other special privileges didn’t feel the type of isolation that most of us felt.
On those rare occasions that we did watch television, it was something to look forward to especially for those who hated dancing on Saturday nights. Occasionally on Saturday night the whole house was assembled in the dining room where we anxiously awaited being given a real treat. We watched episodes of Kung Fu and of course, the dialogue from that show caught on like wildfire amongst the Kinsman Hall residents. For awhile everyone became "grasshopper" and we all came up with our own brand of wisdom to bestow upon each other. Pull-ups took on a whole new life of their own for awhile…Kung Fu style!
Most evenings after dinner were spent playing cards, chess and skully while listening to music selected for us by whatever staff member had floor duty that evening. Most staff members taste in music was more than acceptable, but by virtue of having the power of veto, we seemed to always listen to that staff member’s personal favorites. To this day whenever I hear “Hello It’s Me” by Todd Rundgren it has the same effect on my senses as listening to fingernails being scraped down a chalkboard. It was Carol Hepper's unique way of punishing many of us who didn't share her love of all things Todd Rundgren and since she was the oldest daughter of Dean Hepper and the wife of Paul Maass, the residential director we listened to that song until some of us had nightmares about it.
Keep in mind some music was deemed negative by virtue of its lyrics and was never played. Those were the songs we sang privately in our minds or talked about in private amongst friends when discussing a “war story,” a story about some drug-related incident that happened on the streets. As discussed in previous chapters, war stories were considered negative and weren't permitted. Swapping war stories was a way of building a negative contract with another resident. Of course, breaking rules was frowned upon and was considered a punishable offense if anyone was caught indulging in such unscrupulous activities. The banned songs of that era seemed to me to be the best ones or at least the ones most of us seemed to be able to identify with and would sing repeatedly in our heads to ease the pain and to stay connected somehow with the outside world and our former selves.
Here I lie in my hospital bed
Tell me, Sister Morphine, when are you coming round again?
Oh, I don't think I can wait that long
Oh, you see that I'm not that strong
The scream of the ambulance is sounding in my ears
Tell me, Sister Morphine, how long have I been lying here?
What am I doing in this place?
Why does the doctor have no face?
Oh, I can't crawl across the floor
Ah, can't you see, Sister Morphine, I'm trying to score
Well it just goes to show
Things are not what they seem
Please, Sister Morphine, turn my nightmares into dreams
Oh, can't you see I'm fading fast?
And that this shot will be my last
Sweet Cousin Cocaine, lay your cool cool hand on my head
Ah, come on, Sister Morphine, you better make up my bed
'Cause you know and I know in the morning I'll be dead
Yeah, and you can sit around, yeah and you can watch all the
Clean white sheets stained red.
(Sister Morphine by The Rolling Stones)
You can take the girl out of the negativity, but you just can't squeeze all the negativity out of the girl no matter how hard you try.
Skully was one of the most popular street games in the five NYC boroughs (Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island and The Bronx) from the 1950's through the 1980's. The game was introduced to us at Kinsman Hall by Kevin Gullo and before long it caught on and we all took turns honing our skills and finding the perfectly weighted bottle cap to use to exploit our skully prowess. Our skully board was permanently painted on the dining room floor for all to use when they had gotten sick of playing cards and chess.
Whist was a popular jailhouse card game at the time, so naturally it was brought to us by those people who had come to Kinsman Hall via jail/prison. Whist was everyone’s mainstay and lifeline while at Kinsman Hall. Many were considered Whist gurus, but I think most were legends in their own minds. In reality, EVERYONE was a Whist champ at one time or another. It was as much about finesse and skill as it was about the luck of the draw. Once a person learned the ropes and knew how to read people and make obtainable bids, the rest was history. Of course, choosing the right partner was important as well.
Saturday nights were reserved primarily for weekly dances. Keep in mind that very few of us danced on the streets, but in Kinsman Hall we all became Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers to the beat of T. Rex (Get it on, bang the gong, get it on), Mick Jagger (Oh, a storm is threat'ning my very life today. If I don't get some shelter Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away) and Rod Stewart (I firmly believe that I didn't need anyone but me. I sincerely thought I was so complete...Look how wrong you can be) among many others tunes from that era. Disco queens and kings we weren't, but when in Rome, people are told to do as the Romans do! So on Saturday nights we ALL danced! Slow dancing was awkward to say the least because we had to stay a respectable distance from each other. I think the proper distance was 6 inches. There was to be no groping, fondling or copping a feel while on the dance floor! Now, I think of scenes from the movie, Dirty Dancing and wish I could magically be transported back in time to do just one dance.... MY WAY! Because we all know "nobody puts Baby in a corner!" But honestly I have fond memories of watching Kitty and Hudson dance together. They were made to dance and made it look easy.
The older residents always talked about movie trips, fishing trips and all sorts of other fun activities in which they participated, but my peer group figured they must have been at some other Kinsman Hall or things happened at night after everyone was tucked safely away in the dorms. I do remember playing volleyball out back a few times during the summer months and the guys playing football at times. Being out in the fresh air was delightful right up until the moment I jumped up to spike the ball over the net one day while playing volleyball. When I landed, I came down in a small indentation in the ground. I fell so gracefully that no one knew I was hurt until I didn't get up immediately. Laughter and clapping erupted and then there was silence when the other people playing volleyball figured out I was hurt.
Here I lie in my hospital bed
Tell me, Sister Morphine, when are you coming round again?
Oh, I don't think I can wait that long
Oh, you see that I'm not that strong
The scream of the ambulance is sounding in my ears
Tell me, Sister Morphine, how long have I been lying here?
What am I doing in this place?
Why does the doctor have no face?
Oh, I can't crawl across the floor
Ah, can't you see, Sister Morphine, I'm trying to score
Well it just goes to show
Things are not what they seem
Please, Sister Morphine, turn my nightmares into dreams
Oh, can't you see I'm fading fast?
And that this shot will be my last
Sweet Cousin Cocaine, lay your cool cool hand on my head
Ah, come on, Sister Morphine, you better make up my bed
'Cause you know and I know in the morning I'll be dead
Yeah, and you can sit around, yeah and you can watch all the
Clean white sheets stained red.
(Sister Morphine by The Rolling Stones)
You can take the girl out of the negativity, but you just can't squeeze all the negativity out of the girl no matter how hard you try.
Skully was one of the most popular street games in the five NYC boroughs (Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island and The Bronx) from the 1950's through the 1980's. The game was introduced to us at Kinsman Hall by Kevin Gullo and before long it caught on and we all took turns honing our skills and finding the perfectly weighted bottle cap to use to exploit our skully prowess. Our skully board was permanently painted on the dining room floor for all to use when they had gotten sick of playing cards and chess.
 |
| Terry Marino, Jerry Hoover and Kevin Gullo. playing Skully |
Whist was a popular jailhouse card game at the time, so naturally it was brought to us by those people who had come to Kinsman Hall via jail/prison. Whist was everyone’s mainstay and lifeline while at Kinsman Hall. Many were considered Whist gurus, but I think most were legends in their own minds. In reality, EVERYONE was a Whist champ at one time or another. It was as much about finesse and skill as it was about the luck of the draw. Once a person learned the ropes and knew how to read people and make obtainable bids, the rest was history. Of course, choosing the right partner was important as well.
Saturday nights were reserved primarily for weekly dances. Keep in mind that very few of us danced on the streets, but in Kinsman Hall we all became Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers to the beat of T. Rex (Get it on, bang the gong, get it on), Mick Jagger (Oh, a storm is threat'ning my very life today. If I don't get some shelter Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away) and Rod Stewart (I firmly believe that I didn't need anyone but me. I sincerely thought I was so complete...Look how wrong you can be) among many others tunes from that era. Disco queens and kings we weren't, but when in Rome, people are told to do as the Romans do! So on Saturday nights we ALL danced! Slow dancing was awkward to say the least because we had to stay a respectable distance from each other. I think the proper distance was 6 inches. There was to be no groping, fondling or copping a feel while on the dance floor! Now, I think of scenes from the movie, Dirty Dancing and wish I could magically be transported back in time to do just one dance.... MY WAY! Because we all know "nobody puts Baby in a corner!" But honestly I have fond memories of watching Kitty and Hudson dance together. They were made to dance and made it look easy.
The older residents always talked about movie trips, fishing trips and all sorts of other fun activities in which they participated, but my peer group figured they must have been at some other Kinsman Hall or things happened at night after everyone was tucked safely away in the dorms. I do remember playing volleyball out back a few times during the summer months and the guys playing football at times. Being out in the fresh air was delightful right up until the moment I jumped up to spike the ball over the net one day while playing volleyball. When I landed, I came down in a small indentation in the ground. I fell so gracefully that no one knew I was hurt until I didn't get up immediately. Laughter and clapping erupted and then there was silence when the other people playing volleyball figured out I was hurt.
I knew instantly that I had done something horrible to my ankle and by the time, I was helped back to the house my foot had swollen completely out around the top of my shoe. Off to the nearest hospital I went which happened to be conveniently located in Jackman just a few miles away. I was x-rayed and put in a “soft” cast. The French Canadian doctor who spoke no English indicated to me that I needed surgery, but I opted for a soft cast instead. I had torn the ligament in my ankle and was restricted to crutches until I came back several weeks later.
Doing what was required of me on the kitchen crew was virtually impossible while using crutches and I got tired of being constantly accused of "hiding behind my injury" or using it to my own advantage so I shed my crutches soon after my injury. By the time I returned to the doctor, the whole heel of my soft cast was worn away from walking on it. My excuse when the nurse asked me about it was that I couldn't understand what the doctor had said to me. I played ignorant. It was a lie, but I could tell if I had spoken up and told the truth it would have opened a can of worms that needed to stay shut for my own sake.
I was sent back to Kinsman Hall with no painkillers, no nothing or if I was, I never saw any of them! My leg swelled everyday for the first two weeks and at night the cast was almost unbearable from the swelling, but no one ever asked how I was doing or if I was in pain and I never complained about it to anyone. As I lay awake from the throbbing, the cast was so tight I wanted to scream, but most nights the tears trickled down my cheeks in the dark and that sufficed. I just sucked it up and did the best I could. When my cast was removed several weeks later, my leg was badly discolored all the way up to my knee from being bruised from the severe swelling that had occurred. Needless to say, my ankle never really healed properly and has always been a bothersome area at times in my life ever since, but c'est la vie!!!