Mr. Petrie....

For Open Link Night at  dversepoets.com   - a memory from the early 50's....

Mr. Petrie wore a long white butcher's apron

over his workman's blue chino pants

A crisp white hat stood 6 inches above
   his slick black Italian hair -
or was he Jewish, Polish or Greek?

Often he stood outside his grocery store,
 gesturing with  one hand,
the other in his pocket; animated,
  he chatted with neighbors, customers

Tall with a build like Abe's,
and with a winning smile,
he wore shiny black shoes, and had 
squeaky clean rosy cheeks
He had a large family, I remember, 
 who lived above the store,
immigrants  no doubt who made a life
in spite of everything
Neighborhoods were separated by culture;
 Irish settled in one part of town

  Puerto Ricans, Chinese and Blacks in others;
and we knew where  skid road was,
we liked to drive by there, 
but we never knew the whole story
Many times we crossed  S. W. 14th street
 from Grandpa's house to buy ice cream,
waited for trolleys go by

Buddy welcomed us,  letting us choose 
our favorite ice cream bar 

Mine was usually chocolate covered 
vanilla on a stick.  I think my cousin liked 
the orange  cream sickle best

Mr. Petrie was his name
But we called him "Buddy"
'Thank you,  "Buddy!"  we said

 Ladies relied on fresh bread, eggs daily ;

men bought newspapers to take to work

Nuns from the convent converged at the deli
like clockwork for lunch
wearing their black and white habits

I never thought Buddy was different, 
only the epitome of the "good humor man";

I liked how he always winked at me
stooped down to say hello, shook my hand;
he was kind, friendly, and handsome
I had a crush on him -
 I was only  6 years old.