Authentic Nautical Accessories, and Custom Furnishings
I was living in a little rathole on the backside of Boston's Beacon Hill - it's since been turned into a luxurious condo, but then it was a rathole. Its principal amenity was a solitary window looking out onto the street. The rear window looked into an airshaft that some less intellectual tenants used to deposit their trash. Of course, it was cheap, and after a few beers, you stopped paying attention to the upstairs neighbors alternately screwing or fighting.
Let's be clear. I've never liked Ouija Boards. I acquired the dislike while living with a group of other Folkies on Boston's Beacon Hill in the 1960s.
Everyone had a "handle" - a nickname, at the Folkie Palace.
Over the next couple of months, my friends and I taught Sarah how to shop in the Haymarket from the pushcarts at closing time.
Winter on Beacon Hill was one long slip & slide down the slushy streets.
I like to believe that unlike the later hippie phenomena, Folkies were diverse as a group.
My friends described the backside of Beacon Hill in the '60s as a working-class slum. Not at all an accurate description. Worn at the heels, seen better times, shabbily genteel; those were better descriptors.
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