--- E D   H I G G I N S

In my 14 to 15 year old life in the late 50s I worked as a clean-up boy in the 
neighborhood butcher shop up on 5th. Ave., Monday through Friday from 4-6 after school 
and all day Saturday. First thing on Saturdays I made hamburger, which was on special 
for over the weekend. Several fresh batches were needed throughout the day and my hands 
were always slick with mixing in the kidney fat to add 30 percent fat-content to the 
chuck trimmings, beef jowls, etc. Then to color things up, beef blood in gallon size 
paint cans, two cans to a batch. In the backroom I'd grind up hug tubs of ingredients 
feeding the monster grinder, catching the ground beef in swirls out of the machine to 
set neatly on meat trays for the display case. We'd sell tons of this stuff, I swear. 
After work on Saturdays I'd usually go to a movie with the guys at the downtown Fox 
Theater on Broadway & Middlefield Rd. We'd picked up girls in the dark, a steamy mix of 
teen adolescence on both sides. And these girls were always surprised at how soft and 
smooth my eager hands were compared to other guys whose hands crept up their sweater 
backs and unsnapped their bras. I'd take the round mystery softly in my cupped hand, 
her knee pressed hard against mine.