A few days ago, I drove by 2490 Liberty St., Beaumont, TX. That is, I drove by this address: there is "no there there." I mean there is no house there anymore – just a grassy plot with couple big trees. All the other houses on block – both sides – I could kind of remember: but 2490 is no more – it has long since been completely removed. I have no idea why...

The entire area is inhabited by niggers. Zillions of them – sitting on porches in groups – hanging out on streets, etc. Very run down. Lefkovitch's house (wasn't that their name?) right next door is still there – very shabby rundown frame home. I recognized the right rear upstairs window for some reason: used to look out over our driveway... Next to it was Bobbie Dubois old place – big sheds and garages still outback. Next to it was the old Flower Shop – remember it? – used to stick way out in front towards street. Had big shop picture window in front of it with flowers for sale inside... The "stick out" part is still there – long ago framed in as part of a dwelling....

And the homes (frame ones) were still up on brick piers to keep out of the ever-present water and mud and termites. (I can still recall Pop's dismay when I came running once with the first "crawdaddy" I found waving its claws atop those familiar mud turrets in backyard... LOL!)

Across the street (direct) from 2490 was that the remains of that big old "grandest house on block" remember? – where Mitchell the black caretaker worked for some old widow who owned it. (Mitchell brought me flowers once, hat in hand as good niggers did in those long ago days down South, when I had stepped on rusted nail in garage loft once and had to have tetanus shots which were then carried in horse serum which like to killed me – much to Pop's disgust (the nail-stepping) and my discomfort ( the near-dying) as I lay in their big double bed in the Master Bedroom... hives and fever and all... Did you ever know how dicey that was then, I wonder...?. Figured it all out much later (but many things I have never yet figured out...) You?

The "grandest old house" can still be sort of seen beneath grey overall paint and a remnant brick chimney in front right across from the now vacant lot of 2490...

Next to it is Charlie Vanderholt's home (remember him? And his little bro – Jimmy...).I could still make out the house "form" only...

Next to it was an unbelievable derelict home: now all holes in roof, rotted out eaves, broken windows... Two and half stories maybe. Brick facing. I remember the head of the house there died one time and they held funeral out of his home here. They carried his coffin out the front door... way Southerners used to do back then. You could see it all from our front window (of 2490) and Mom watched and cried and cried (I think she even had got "dressed up" that day, and sat by window handkerchief in hand...) and I said "Why you crying, Mom?" And she, of course, said something like "Some day you will know, Bernard..."

She got that part right, anyhow.

What was it, Sis? Maybe 1934 -35 – maybe 36? Seeing it all this way was like seeing the dreams I have now... It was Depression times and all – but it is more of a real nightmare here today than it was then...????

The street is so narrow there is no parking: just two driving lanes only.

Way down on other corner was Harry Lipschitz's place... Kinda unchanged ... Mac Cheeseman's place was up same side between it and Vanderholt's. I remembered Felix Burroughs – but not where he lived: Felix is my bete noire even yet...

Across from 2490 on the side street the old vacant lot where we fought (Felix and I) and played and where ghosts yet that haunt my every night now still go – but in the Texas sun it was just one more shabby building now – the lot long gone...

Once back in the 60's maybe .. when I was in "my natural prime" and now 40 or more years ago itself (!), I had a bizz trip to Houston and some spare time so rented a car and drove here one afternoon. 2490 was still there and looked just like when we had lived there: red tiles, yellow stucco walls, etc. As I drove by, some workmen were taking the very table out the door that once was in the breakfast nook in kitchen – remember it?...

I saw the porch where I saw "Sport" the last time: as we drove off for Colorado and Pop's summer vacation one year...Della was to watch him, but when we got back months later both nigger and dog were gone forever...

I saw the ribbon driveway where "Junius" used to roll up and down on his scooter made from 2x4's and your old roller skate – remember? – and "Big John" used to come peering in the windows for the "Cap'n" (our Pop) – importuning if he might not have a "thin quarter or old dime" so old John could buy a mason jar of gasoline for his old car...

South Texas in those Depression Years is so very far away now in distance, time and memory I can hardly recall. Likely same for you, I suppose... Seeing it now all dark and shabby and Spanish moss waving from the trees just left me really down...

And "Uncle Wilson" – remember him? – trimming the arbor vitae day after day in his old "blue duckin's" and boasting of his " new chairs in the parlor" all the time (false teeth) – and "working" us little kids to get him cookies and stuff from Della's kitchen... LOL! ("Don' git nuthin' but air puddin' when you work up to tha' Powell's..."). Called us all "Little Brother-in-Laws" – remember?...

And the "nigger house" out back where we had the famous Halloween Show one time? And the banana tree and the old fishpool where I raised bluegills and catfish and "turkles" as John called them... And the crack in the road out front where Carl Pleasance (he was Cajun and didn't have any friends but I played with him) and I broke out my front teeth and Mom and Pop were so pissed and said it ruined my chances of going to West Point (LOL!) and so decades later I was "only a draftee in the Army" and that, and my lack of math skills (remember?) and other derelictions I now see night after night are what has brought me to what I am now!

They were right and I was wrong!

(You ever feel guilty about anything?)

Once I tried to "run down" Carl. Found he had gone to New Orleans and operating a big successful Art Gallery. The woman I spoke to identified herself as his (grown!) daughter! Carl never returned the call – and I likewise. Like him in youth, I don't count friends anymore – and watch like a hawk for cracks in the road when I ride my bike... (Like I was told long ago: "You only get one set of teeth in this world!"...)

Don't ever go back, Ceil. Don't ever turn off the Interstate. Just let it go. There's "no there there", and you can't go home again...

Not-So-Big Bro,

bernie