In the old way of talking--my father "followed the horses." In the 50s that was easy to do in Pawtucket--he had two good options Narragansett Race Track and Lincoln Downs. Both are gone now-- he also had his pick of bookies. One ran a small store on Prospect Street and often my father would write down his picks and give them to me to give to the store keeper. Of course, Building 19 has taken over the space that was the Narragansett. Whenever I go there I am flooded with memories of going there with my father, He was a compulsive gambler and had little control in that area of his life. He taught me to read the racing form when I was a toddler and we often discussed the horses that were running and he would let me pick. He was superstitious--what gambler isnt?-- so if I insisted on some horse because I liked the name, he would usually bet on my hunch.
Recently I have been thinking about the life lessons that my father taught and have written a few poems about those. Three have been published as part of the Origami Poetry Project. I will include them here.
. I will try to attach their tiny chapbook to this post. Hope I can do it. If not look on line for Origami Poetry and my chapbook is titled "The Long Count."