Our house on East 49th Street was a huge, four-apartment, wood-framed monster. Our apartment was on the second floor in the front and consisted of a living room in the front with a small bedroom next to it. Then came the dining room, my parents’ bedroom, another small bedroom, the kitchen, and finally a long skinny bathroom.

My sister and I were young enough to share the small bedroom off of the living room. That was a good idea because she sleepwalked sometimes, and it was just like you see in the movies.

We had bunk beds—she was on the top and I was on the bottom. I would tie a light rope to her wrists and the other end would be tied to my wrist to wake me when she took a nocturnal stroll.

She walked like Frankenstein—eyes closed, arms out in front of her. Once she no longer sleepwalked, I moved to the small bedroom off of the kitchen. That room was previously reserved for relatives who were constantly escaping from the wretched coal mining towns of Western Pennsylvania. When that migration was over, I was awarded that room.

That about describes the house, but there was one more thing that was kind of interesting. We had a monstrosity of a hot water heater in the kitchen.

It was haphazardly jammed into a corner and was vented with an unsightly crooked pipe through the ceiling. The thing looked like it came from planet Zercon. It looked like it was something from the cheap science fiction movies that I saw at the Ezella Theater.

The water heater had about a dozen coats of paint on its acne-covered surface. It had some exterior coiled tubing on the top that I kept a constant eye on. I had the feeling that the tubing was going uncoil into grasping motions and bellow, “FEEED MEEE!”

To get our apartment on the second floor I would go in through the ground floor entrance on the side of the building. I would then race up the stairs like a man possessed. If I got to the second landing before I heard the door slam, I was sure that my destiny would be assured.

I never failed to reach the second landing before I heard the door slam. Never underestimate the power of a mystical agenda—although I am still wondering when and if my destiny is going to show up. I’m not giving up, though.

There was no heat in any of the rooms in our apartment. There was a furnace in the basement, but it was too feeble to send heat to the second floor. So, my mother bought a huge electric heater and placed it in the dining room. It reached all the rooms; all except my room off of the kitchen.

But that was okay because my mother could put milk and other perishables on my dresser when the refrigerator was full, and they kept pretty well. She was very resourceful that way and I developed an affinity for being cold. My family was very expedient when it came to such things.

There may have been things that were lacking in the house, but there was another thing that added an exciting degree of danger. It was the side porch attached to the house.

The porch had a defining degree of tilt away from the house. My mother would not let me or my sister sit out there without adult supervision. My father got careless one day and almost went over the side. It was a long way down! The excitement never seemed to end on 49th Street!

Another interesting thing about the house was it had rats in the ceiling. I really didn’t mind though because we weren’t allowed to have pets.

Wait, that’s not right and I am kind of embarrassed. You shouldn’t have rats in your house! Besides, they chewed on the ceiling in my room at night and I couldn’t fall asleep. I lined up all my shoes next to my bed and threw them at the ceiling when they started to chew. That usually quieted them—but not always because I ran out of shoes sometimes.

Anyway, my mother got some rat poison, put it on a piece of bread, and poked it through a small hole in the ceiling. It was quiet that night. The next morning, I went to the backyard and there were a whole lot of rats there in their throes of death poses. It looked like rat Armageddon! Problem solved—peaceful sleep for me.

My sister was only about five during this period and she was easy to play tricks on. I told her that I had an amazing magic trick that I wanted to show her:

My parents had a closet in their bedroom that was long and narrow and did not have a wall at the end of it. It went all the way to my room, and I could hang my clothes in it at that end of the closet.

I told my sister that I was going to disappear and then come back. I told her to sit in the dining room and stay there. Then I would go into my parents’ room, disappear, and then come back. I entered my parents’ room, shut the door and loudly shouted, “Presto Change-O.”

Then I shot through the closet and came out in my bedroom. Then I entered the kitchen from my room. I would dramatically enter the dining room where she was seated, take a bow, and say, “Ta da! She was very impressed!