My friend, Lloyd, and I would stroll down Main St. every Saturday to the Tivoli Theater to watch our hero, Wild Bill Elliott in a ½ hour cliffhanger serial followed by either a Three Stooges or a Laurel and Hardy or a Leon Errol comedy short. We’d have to pay a whopping 9 cents for the "picture show" (that's what everyone called a movie back then -- a picture show) and a nickel for a bag of popcorn. From the 15 cents our moms would give to each of us we’d be left with a penny each after the show. That penny would be destined for a horrifying fate.
The Tivoli was adjacent to the old frame-structured Goudchaux’s Department store across from St. Joseph’s Cemetery.
When the picture show would let out, Lloyd and I would cut through St. Joseph’s Cemetery to gain quicker access to North St. for our trek back home. If it was not too dark, we would often collect human bones that were strewn near washed out graves. The object of this collection was to add to the “make-shift” little pet skeleton we had been assembling over a period of several weeks. Sadly I have no pictures of our “Frankenstein” critter which consisted of a rib cage, 2 miss-matched legs, one arm, and no skull (at least not yet). We hid our osteo creature in an old abandoned shed that was situated behind my house. This was an area that adults seldom ever frequented, thus providing us some measure of privacy.
Hmmm! Young minds! Youthful innocence! As Mark Twain so artfully characterized it: “Too bad that youth is wasted on the young”. But, Mr. Twain, I have to take issue with your reasoning. What good are the fruits of youth if they are only to endure over one's few, diminishing years?