I was going through a box with old letters and things in search of some documentation for a future series of posts that I plan to write, when I came upon my old little red book of addresses.

I used to maintain that book when I lived in Harrisburg and for the first few years that I lived in Philadelphia. Going through it now was like a trip down memory lane. There were a lot of names that I expected to be there, like Guy Goodman, of course, and many names that I had forgotten but I still recognized with a little bit of thought.

And then I came to Joseph and Rebecca Chick.

And there was an instant feeling of I ought to know those people, their names are so familiar, but I have no idea who they are.

But shouldn’t they be Joe and Becky? Why did I enter them as Joseph and Rebecca? So familiar and yet I just couldn’t place them.

Were they the friends of Gary’s, the folks who gave me the shoo-fly cake (as opposed to pie) recipe? People from work? I just couldn’t think of who they might be.

So I started making lunch.

Then it all came rushing back to me like the hot kiss at the end of a wet fist.

They were my landlords when I lived at 2412 Green Street, Apt 2, in Harrisburg.

Boy did I love that apartment. I had taken it after Frank (I’ve forgotten his last name) moved out. It was on the second floor and it had a nice sized living room, where Frank had left behind his string art that he had created on the ceiling one lazy afternoon, an equally sized dining room, two bedrooms, and a bath. One downside was the kitchen that had totally inadequate cupboard space and no counter space. Really, no counter space. I had to make do with the kitchen table for all my food preparation.

As another plus the apartment had a balcony; well, really a porch, but since it was on the second floor, it served as a balcony. Great for sitting out when it was raining. Or when I came home from Channel after working an evening shift I’d grab my headphones with the long extension cord, put on a recording of Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde, and sit out on that balcony and glory in the music.

Another downside: it was directly across the street from a church. This was in the days when I still liked to sleep late on a Sunday, so yes, the extra traffic on a Sunday morning was annoying.

All for a very affordable $170 per month. Even on the salary I was getting from Channel in those days it was well within my budget.

And Joe and Becky were pretty decent landlords.

Of the very many places that I’ve lived, that apartment on Green Street was one of my favorites. I was there for just shy of three years.