Madison Street: Changing of the Guard

 

Halloween 1960. Me, a friend, two sisters and a cousin.

 

         Changing of the Guard

 

The elderly McBrides were quiet folk

whose claim to fame was that, on Halloween,

they’d hand us kids a nickel if we made

them laugh. A silly song, a corny joke

was all it took. He was an ex-Marine,

wore medals to the Veterans Day parade;

she was the quintessential Southern belle,

who’d die before she’d utter damn or hell.

Overnight, it seems to me, they’re gone,

supplanted by the Dukes, a family

of eight. Now trash cans line the unkempt lawn,

and Mr. Duke, who sports a trim goatee,

will often disappear from dusk till dawn,

while she can be heard swearing. Royally.