Yes, I grew up in Brooklyn and loved it so much if I could afford to retire there, I might. If I could afford to retire there I'd live in Bensonhurst because Bensonhurst appears to not have been infected with an influx of crime and entitlement.
I'd still love to go bike riding on shore road at my old retirement age. Yup, I'm old, but stuck in my teen years mentally. Aches and pains, yes I do but rarely does it stop me from being silly, crazy and having dreams.
Definitely I'm in need of a newer car, yet how that's going to happen, I have no idea. My car has 233,000 miles on it and I'd need a vehicle that sits upright like a chair. So back to Brooklyn I go in my NY state of mind.
P.S. 140 was the school on 59th st. and 4th ave-some say it was P.S. 118. My principal Mr/ Vitalo said it was 140 annex so that's what I'll go with. My dreams are to go roller skating once again, pizza in Brooklyn, a knish, a pastrami on Rye, an egg cream, sit on shore road with my friend, my grandchildren, family and or alone.
Cobblestones streets and brownstones, ice cream cones, stick ball, apartment buildings, stoops and whispers late at night. Hot sweaty guys sitting out, sleeves rolled up or in those undershirts with bra like straps. Rock and roll music coming from transistor radios and kids getting dressed up for Friday night dances at the local churches, mostly OLPH.
That was all wonderful and just as good was my mother making a huge pot of pea soup with sliced hot dogs . My father made hot rice, like rice pudding, but in those huge pots, so big it barely fit on one burner. There were eight kids so we used giant pots.
Early Saturday Mornings someone, usually myself or my brother Roger would go to the bakery and deli. We bought enough rolls so we all had two, then at the deli baloney, cheese, ham and genoa salami. My father would clear our old formica table and cut every roll, spread them with mayo and mustard and line up the deli meats. Then he'd make two jugs of ice tea. We' take paper plates and paper cups and a trash bag. Off to Gerritsen beach where we'd drive right up onto the beach and the food would stay out of the sun. After swimming and running all over we were ready to eat around one o'clock, not before. I think about six or seven of us would pile into that old car, no seat belts. The only thing we took was excitement !
IT seemed by five we were hungry again and then there was John ! John was the best food truck to come on the beach. He was so very dark black and for quite a while people wouldn't buy from him. They bought from a guy named Nick. Nick was short, dirty, dirty fingers, and creepy laugh and filthy truck. Little by little and we were one of the first, people started buying from John. John who stopped at our house on 56th st between 4th and 5th ave, to ask if Roger could work on his truck with pay and all he wanted to eat. John picked him up and dropped him off every day one summer.
Roger was happy for more than one reason, he was out of the house. This was his summer of Happiness! I was happy for him and John had the best hot dogs ever. He was so clean, honest and just a good guy. Thank you John-well this was just a small piece about Growing up in Brooklyn. I loved it!
I'd still love to go bike riding on shore road at my old retirement age. Yup, I'm old, but stuck in my teen years mentally. Aches and pains, yes I do but rarely does it stop me from being silly, crazy and having dreams.
Definitely I'm in need of a newer car, yet how that's going to happen, I have no idea. My car has 233,000 miles on it and I'd need a vehicle that sits upright like a chair. So back to Brooklyn I go in my NY state of mind.
P.S. 140 was the school on 59th st. and 4th ave-some say it was P.S. 118. My principal Mr/ Vitalo said it was 140 annex so that's what I'll go with. My dreams are to go roller skating once again, pizza in Brooklyn, a knish, a pastrami on Rye, an egg cream, sit on shore road with my friend, my grandchildren, family and or alone.
Cobblestones streets and brownstones, ice cream cones, stick ball, apartment buildings, stoops and whispers late at night. Hot sweaty guys sitting out, sleeves rolled up or in those undershirts with bra like straps. Rock and roll music coming from transistor radios and kids getting dressed up for Friday night dances at the local churches, mostly OLPH.
That was all wonderful and just as good was my mother making a huge pot of pea soup with sliced hot dogs . My father made hot rice, like rice pudding, but in those huge pots, so big it barely fit on one burner. There were eight kids so we used giant pots.
Early Saturday Mornings someone, usually myself or my brother Roger would go to the bakery and deli. We bought enough rolls so we all had two, then at the deli baloney, cheese, ham and genoa salami. My father would clear our old formica table and cut every roll, spread them with mayo and mustard and line up the deli meats. Then he'd make two jugs of ice tea. We' take paper plates and paper cups and a trash bag. Off to Gerritsen beach where we'd drive right up onto the beach and the food would stay out of the sun. After swimming and running all over we were ready to eat around one o'clock, not before. I think about six or seven of us would pile into that old car, no seat belts. The only thing we took was excitement !
IT seemed by five we were hungry again and then there was John ! John was the best food truck to come on the beach. He was so very dark black and for quite a while people wouldn't buy from him. They bought from a guy named Nick. Nick was short, dirty, dirty fingers, and creepy laugh and filthy truck. Little by little and we were one of the first, people started buying from John. John who stopped at our house on 56th st between 4th and 5th ave, to ask if Roger could work on his truck with pay and all he wanted to eat. John picked him up and dropped him off every day one summer.
Roger was happy for more than one reason, he was out of the house. This was his summer of Happiness! I was happy for him and John had the best hot dogs ever. He was so clean, honest and just a good guy. Thank you John-well this was just a small piece about Growing up in Brooklyn. I loved it!
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