Jack Kerouac was born on this day in 1922 in Lowell, MA. He died 47 years later in St. Petersburg, FL.
Visiting St. Pete in November I drove by his old house, where he had lived with his wife and mother. A man was standing on the porch who turned out to be the new owner. He was showing the house to a prospective tenant, and I asked if I could have a look inside. He said OK. There was a sectional in the living room, a bedframe in the bedroom, a table set for four in the kitchen, and a Barcalounger in the den. This last item held me the longest. It was probably not Kerouac’s – I’d read that all of the original furniture had been removed – but it seemed somehow to carry his imprint. I could picture him there, sunk in the cushions and another alcoholic stupor as the sounds of a ballgame slurped from the TV.
