Monday, August 07, 2006
Sparky was the most unintentionally funny man I've ever known. He was also the nosiest. His little trinity house in Northern Liberties was in a gated courtyard. He loved that the gate was noisy so he could spy on all the comings and goings.
One night Sparky was taking out the trash and peeked into the window of our neighbors, Scooter and Mum-Mum. He could tell that someone was expecting company. Sparky came running back into the house all excited that there were candles lit and he heard music and the shades were open but no one was visible on the first floor.
"I need more trash!" he was screaming as he ran through the house looking for something that would give him an acceptable excuse to go out and spy some more. If Mum Mum was expecting a gentleman caller, he wanted to know.
Sparky ran back and forth to the trash cans a few times before Mum Mum thwarted him by closing his blinds. Sparky took this as a personal affront. I had to suffer through the temper tantrum that followed.
That weekend at one of our family dinner's at Scooter's (he's a chef) we were talking about Sparky and how nosy he was. Mum Mum was aware if Peeping Sparky, hence the blinds getting closed. I also let slip that Ihad christened him Gladys Kravitz, and the name stuck.
Luckily, Sparky was a pretty good sport (he's a total narcissist and teasing is attention). Every time he gave us a reason to refer to him as Gladys Kravits, he would squeal, "Oh, Abner, I just saw a horse in the Stevens' living room."