Aloha Trailer Park

This is a story, not just about a trailer park, but a story about the death and dying of a small town that I once knew.  Yesterday, on our home phone machine, I played back a recently recorded message; "This is Marsha, Marc's wife - Brad, he would really love to talk to you. Please call back".  And after nearly some twenty years, I did.

Marc (Marcel) was like an older brother when I was a young teen, when I felt adrift after being abandoned by the death of a mother and an absentee father. For four years, Marc and I covered a lot ground - hittin' the road, driving, hitch-hiking, and one summer in 1967 - we fell stranded while 'hittin' it' in New York City.

That same summer, we were robbed and nearly shot at gun point in Rhode Island, and while bumming-it, out on Massachusetts's Cape Cod, we both became a potential witness to a murder out on the "dunes".  Hastily, we thumbed our way back to the Boston Turnpike, where we scrawled out a cardboard sign, which read;  San Francisco.

Today at Aloha Trailer Park - Marc sat in his chair, slow in thought, short in movement, where we reminisced once again - all the while, both smoking and drinking from his bottled whiskey.

 


Marc's mother - Vastaa Kyselyn Finannasta (Vera Kimris) who I had known late in her life, was a French-Russian aerialist who had head-lined with the Ringling Bros. & Barnum and Bailey Show.  "Vera's" renowned act - hanging by her teeth from a revolving airplane while performing under the 'big top'.

Marc flipping through his scrapbook.

After nearly 3 hours of conversation between Marc and I, Marsha tells me, "Let him rest. But I want to show you what's left of this poor old park".

The Aloha Trailer Park backs-up against Phillippi Creek, and on my hour tour, there were signs of a still active "homeless camp" back in the woods.