(True story ... that is from what I remember of it when I was a very little kid.)


I got to think about my Grandma - no not her the other one
She lived in New York City and my father was her son
I didn’t go there often but I liked it just the same
She had a jewelry box with every single gem that you could name
I felt grown up in an instant when I wore those pretty things
I thought I was the biggest movie star in necklaces and rings
Every color that the rainbow ever found
A box of crayons couldn’t even stand its ground
Wearing so much I could barely move around

Now my Grandpa was the building Super on that New York City street
His job was to make sure that all the people had their heat
He walked me down the hall to see the furnace boiling
I swore it was a dragon come to swallow half of everything
Like the scary movie people falling in a fiery pit
I figured one small slip upon that concrete floor and that’d be it
So I got my nerve and backed out of there slow
I left my Grandpa with the furnace all alone
I went back to Grandma’s jewelry box and didn’t really care about the cold

There were long white steam pipes hanging overhead
How lucky that didn’t realize exactly where they led
I had fun on all the furniture instead
It was vinyl monkey bars
Suited fine for all us basement movie stars

When I wasn’t playing dressing up or running from the heat
I was sitting in the kitchen where my family met to eat
And even to a kid like me that kitchen was so small
They hadn’t room enough - they had to keep the fridge out in the hall
We had to move the table out just so we all could fit
And you could almost open up that fridge no matter where you’d sit
I’ll not forget that small apartment in the Bronx
With the furnace that scared me out of my socks
And the fastest way to feel grown up was in my Grandma’s jewelry box