One
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This was a new kind of art gallery. I was looking for that Calcium Carbide Lamp. I walked up and down the isles of these stores, looking for this light that I would never find. But what I had was the stores. I enjoyed walking in the ware, which I would not have done, were it not for the lamp-search. And I think that was my first antique-shop touring, of which I got into more as time went on.
The Gypsies in very colorful wagons, were always interesting. Now this was the epitome of the dishonest man. I had seen Gypsies in many places, Greece, Italy, Spain, France and now Ireland. I took a good look, as I drove by the half dozen bright-painted horse drawn color-carnival wooden wagons. What does one think ? Fairly mysterious. Low class. Outlaws. Warned against. Gypsies steal-babies, was the refrain when I was little, spoken in the low conspiratorial tone, like speaking the name - the then muffled Mafia.
Gypsies and hobos, the latter a romanticized gypsy. Well hobos were loners and Gypsies were family-types, if one thought about it, but never-did. Entertainers, street dancers, the sinister moustache of the villain, seen around town in Europe, but don't remember ever seeing one in America before this time. Thieves and con-artists but not murderers. Yes they were the Whatnot. I am anything but a Whatnot, but basically if you want to know the truth, and I don't tell this to everyone, I am a Whatnot. I wouldn't have it any other way. See my tattwo. I-am-what-I-am and am-not.
The curse of the Whatnot. Americans had one finger for F_You. It just meant hump you as something bad. It was personal.
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