Shore Road Deli Brooklyn New York

        Recently on my trip to New York, I held off getting breakfast and finally decided I didn't want to eat while on the turnpike. Turnpike food is good enough and they do now offer a healthier side, but I craved a great roast beef sandwich. I stopped at this deli once before thinking it was like it always was, and would buy a knish. But on my stop before the most recent I found the deli was sold!
        NO!!!! Yet once inside I notice a totally different look, more spacious, a few little tables to sit and take your time and really very nice people behind the counter. So I ordered a roast beef sandwich since it looked so good and fresh. That was my first trip. The young man behind the counter was fantastic. not only polite but made eye contact. He cared about what I wanted and how I wanted it!
       This time, it did not surprise. He sorta of recognized me, made my roast beef sandwich, on such very fresh bread, added just the right mayo and a little salt. I added a portion of rice pudding, my favorite dessert. Cut in half, wrapped up well, I took off, thankful for this new Deli. I made sure to take a menu with me.  I couldn't wait for my first stop. Opening at a light that roast beef looked as if it was just cooked to perfection.
         I have to tell you I not only was not disappointed, but wished I ordered two! I savored it and ate slowly to really taste each bite. too often we munch down our food and don't know what it tasted like or even remember eating. Finished, and now into my rice pudding. Lordy, what a lunch ! Do your self a favor. If you want a great sandwich, not just okay, passable, good enough, you should please stop in at The Shore Road Deli-its located between 93rd and 94st  the actual address is - 9316 3rd ave. The phone number is-718-748-1065

  Thank you Shore Raod Deli, you made my trip home, so much better. Next visit, I'm bring my cooler :) Thank you also for the polite manner used with customers.

MTA Disses late Drivers Mom Staten ISland NY

     

 Please bear with me. I am a friend of the family for many years. The late Kevin Griffin an MTA bus driver in Staten Island who died three years ago of AML Leukemia left behind a grieving mother, a young daughter and many MTA friends, or so it was thought. Kevin's mom Sandy told me which office he worked out of and so we took a little ride while I was back In NY visiting.
        I wrote  a book donating two dollars from each sale to AML and St. Judes children's hospital. More people Kevin's age die from this. i'm not looking for fortune or have my name plastered as a writer. I enjoy writing and mainly to make people happy. This book had a purpose and that purpose gave hope to mom to finally start the grieving process.
             You see, her husband was killed two days before her son died. He was in  a hurry, ran across the street,  and thrown by a jeep who only had liability insurance.
      Sandy and I decided to go to the MTA and as we were closer to teh office she started to cry and talk, and talk. Sandy never fully grieved in three years. She lost her residence, her car and was homeless due to losing both her husband and son. Money was mismanaged by people she thought were helping. Yeah, helping themselves. Because they ere close to her, she couldn't bring herself to do anything. Still lost in the process of going back to work, paying bills, losing so much time from work she found herself without a place to live and was evicted. Everything, or almost everything is still in storage. Her now living situation is with an ex, his wife, her sister and now another son who I won't talk about.
     So when I go back to where I grew up Brooklyn, Sandy is the first person I see. She tells me she feels old, worn and useless, not cared about or cared for. Her mom lives in Brooklyn but in a senior home. Sandy feels to remain until her moms passing so she can keep an eye on mom. yet she also doesn't have any resources to move.
     Giving her hope, I let her know about the BOOK, Rev. Joe and the Construction Crew. sandy is in it, plays a big funny part through out and so is her son Kevin. They don'y play mom and son.
    Now we arrive at the MTA office/terminal on Castleton ave. in Staten Island yesterday Monday August22 nd, 2016  . There were four men outside and I said they with little respect at this time. One tall man who is bald asked what we needed if we had a complaint and when sandy and I tried to explain, he turned his back and started talking to another guy and at the same time, another man asked what we wanted. and both Sandy and I explain and about the donations from the book. He said, oh okay, you need the union rep. He's upstairs, I'll get him to come down.   This man said he knew Kevin Griffin.
                                          No one ever came down ! We arrived during the lunch hour which we hoped someone would take ten minutes and just listen, just listen and respond. Well we got a response alright. It was to ignore us!  twenty-two minutes later another driver walks up the ramp, asks if we need help. I explained we've been ignored and were told the union rep would be down. He said I'll get him to see you. Again, The same thing. What kind of men are these that not one would at the very least let us know the following: Sorry ladies, we're not interested, sorry ladies, he doesn't have time, sorry ladies, can you come back some other time, sorry ladies...something, but all we did get was a closed door.
    The book is 13.99 and I have 46 to sell. I can order more If anyone decides you would like one or two, just pay at pay pal to doozybags. Thats my pay pal name and I make bags, write on my blog and am an honest person trying to just do a little bit of good and would never, ever do what the MTA IN STATEN ISLAND at the CASTLETON office did to us-ignore.
    Some of these same men were flirty to other female drivers but they couldn't take five minutes out of flirting to just say, we're not interested. Sandy was hoping to see and take a picture of her late son's photo which was hung in the upstairs office. But she was ignored. Her son Kevin went in so many days when he was sick, dying because he didn't want to leave anyone down. Yesterday they let him and his mom down. Men?
                      

Oscar, Green Eyes-Brooklyn Long Ago

       I thought this may be a better way to see if I can learn about Oscar. He was about the nicest kid in school and was in my class in the eighth grade at P.S. 140, the original school on 59th st. and 4th ave. Some called it 118, some 140.
       Well what I can tell you about Oscar is he was very tall, lanky, kind and soft spoken. He was already filled with wisdom, more than most of the adults I knew. When things went wrong in class and Oscar would notice some kid going wild, Oscar would saunter up, put his hand kindly on that kids shoulder and that kid who wanted to fight would stop and settle down. I can still hear him say, okay Oscar, if you say so.
       I remember too Oscar's hair. He had it filled with some kind of hair grease like one of my brothers used-yuck. You would be one sorry kid if you grabbed my brothers' hair, grabbing and sliding backwards at the same time. But somehow with Oscar It worked. His hair looked like a series of ocean waves, dark brown, yet had some lighter highlights, enough to notice the swirls, the curl in front. He had a great smile and I'm pretty sure he was Spanish. His hands were strong and he had long piano fingers.
     Oscar had a smile that fit his personality and I never heard anyone say anything bad about him. He was just a kind, kind kid in a body filled with wisdom and love for humanity. That's how I saw him and I hope someone reads this, knows him and lets me know how he is. my contact is Nancymellow@ aol.com
If you know Oscar, I'm sure you know what I mean.

Pepito Roman-Romano Brooklyn NY

       Living in a huge apartment building there were many faces, big and small families, some doing well and some not doing so well. This building located at 328-59th st. Brooklyn had a very special little kid. He was Puerto Rican and his name was Pepito, but his last name is sketchy as there were two families with similar last names. One was Roman, one Romano. One family Peurto Rican and one Spanish. these two families were a world apart. What I do remember is Pepitos' mother used to make great Spanish rice and always remembered me when she did make it and for that alone I have fond memories of her.
       Pepito was a funny little kid, small in size and chubby. His best friend was my brother Roger who he would yell, ROOGER! ROOGER! ROOGER coming out? So like many, every once in a while I wonder what ever became of Pepito. So Pepito if you recognize yourself here, e mail me at Nancymellow@aol.com---we lived on the first floor and you on the second. I only remember you and your mom, but I was only nine. I hope you are happy and well :)

Moving Back To Brooklyn

       Is it possible? As expensive as it is to live in New York is it possible to move back ? It isn't like living there from day one and getting into a rent controlled apartment or buying a home for fifty thousand dollars.
       So here I was last night dreaming about moving into a Brownstone across the street from where my friend lived on 57st above 6th ave in Bay Ridge Brooklyn. Who doesn't love a Brownstone? So in my dream my friend is telling me I wouldn't be able to afford it, and I told her, well I'll make a call first and see how much they want. They wanted only 170,000.00

     I told my friend I can do that, no problem. She just laughed. But somehow that dream moved to another area in Brooklyn, wrought iron railings on the brownstone and the neighborhood was so much more crowded with people jamming the sidewalks. In the dream I didn't have any idea where I was but made another phone call. This time I met with a small woman of Chinese descent who told me the house was at a very good price, only 2.3 million dollars. I said thank you, looked at my friend and said no way.

    I guess that the last part of my dream was more reality, a true wake up call as I soon woke up. Thinking about this dream I knew I would not be moving back, although I hope to at some point. I want to wake up, go for a walk on a sidewalk, stop at a diner, grab coffee and a bagel, go to the beach in winter or fall. Maybe summer too:) I want to stand and watch boats in the harbor pass and look at the Verrazano Bridge,  maybe go to the theater, or take a drive to the island. Long Island for those who don't know, "the island".

    The cultures too are what I miss. I love going to Bensonhurst, Italian bakeries, 13th ave, Jewish delicacies, watching the Norwegian  Day parade every year, St. Patty's Day, Polish Kielbasi (but don't care for it) Spanish Rice which I love and much more.

    I'll still go up to visit as I left my heart in Brooklyn, but a bigger piece of my heart first and foremost is with my children who live in other states. So for now and maybe forever this will continue to be my residence, home to my children when they visit and home for me when they visit. It's true, home is where the heart is, anytime any place.

Biking in New York

      About a week ago, I took a kid up to Brooklyn for lunch to my favorite place, The Salty Dog. The plan was then to go to Fao Schwartz, Central Park and Little Italy, ending back for supper at The Salty Dog.
       But I was warned, which usually never stops me. A friend told me about the new lanes for bikes and Mayor Bloombergs lane changes. Now I've been to New York plenty of times and drove in the city, but this trip blew me away. It wasn't just that bikes were metered and parked at angles but lanes added to an already over crowded city filled with traffic, horns blasting, pedestrians trying to cross, buses moving and business trucks weaving in and out and double parking.
      Cops are scattered everywhere, ready for anything. I weave in and out of side streets, avenues thinking I'll find one street free to let me pass on up to FAO, that toy store I love to visit and dance on the piano. It took half an hour to get down one street only to turn onto fifth avenue and see a media blitz because of APPLE and FAO also having some big deal happening. Not only could I not park, but I had to now find restrooms. That was easier. Just pretend you're going into a restaurant, ask for menu's and for restrooms. Have your guest sit and look at the menu, then as you are about to leave simply say, I'm sorry, he isn't feeling well, have to leave. Worked fine-all three times.
    Yes, I found a few odd parking spaces, and since I only needed them for  a few minutes, no one was bothered by where and how I parked.
     So off to Little Italy and lo and behold they were having the feast of St. Genaro. It used to be great years ago, but now it's all blown up prices, tents in the streets, greasy foods and a waste of time. Oh, also a good place to meet pick pockets.
     Well we walked one block and I told the kid, let's go to Brooklyn. Yea, home. I drove on the BQE back and right to the sixty-ninth street pier, took some pictures and introduced the kid to some fishermen. Trying to get this kid to just say hello wasn't so easy as he worried the fishermen might think he was stalking them. He's never been to Brooklyn before. So I said, hey guys, can I ask you to meet someone, and it took off from there. They were so friendly, talked fish, laughed, and him where he was from and told me I was nuts to drive in the city.
        I had one more stop to make. I wanted some knishes so bad I could taste it. Yet it wasn't to be. Not enough time to go where I knew to go, but we did stop in a small corner grocery store, bought some ginger ale and squashed in the outside corner was a book stand of used and cheap books. This kid was in his own happy world buying books and as I stood there and waited I looked across the street and suddenly really looked. The front door didn't look familiar as it was painted a tan color, but then I saw the number. I looked up at the corner street sign and back at the apartment building's number.
       My son was born there, his first home. That made this trip complete for me. What a way to end the day.
    

Brooklyn's Salty Dog & a Candyman

       In case you never heard of a salty dog, I'm about to tell you the best kind.
Located in Bay Ridge Brooklyn on third avenue between seventy-fifth and seventy-sixth street, it's a restaurant, and a bar, and both suit me very well.
       This past Saturday was very important for me as I finally got back there with a childhood friend of mine. We missed too many times at The Salty Dog and made up fr them Saturday. The Salty Dog is a Firehouse, converted into a bar/Restaurant where generations of families and friends meet for a fantastic time of food and drink and meeting up with acquaintances, and the best of the best. For me that means, Larry and Kelly and I am sorry I forgot the guy who deserves a lot of thanks, their busboy/young man. I watched him so busy Saturday keeping his eye on a path of traffic so as not to bump into anyone or on anyone.
     As this good looking and pleasant personality guy zoomed in and out, tables were cleared to keep busy servers, busy and a kitchen cooking. These three, Larry, Kelly and the busy bus boy make things work. For reasons not important here I am able to go up, only about once a year, and boy is it memorable.
    This particular evening my friend and I who recently lost her husband and son two days apart, two months ago, very much needed this time out. The people who were taking care of us gave us attention which only meets the highest of standards when it comes to personal attention. For myself who rarely has a drink I usually order two, and a great burger and fries. However my usual drink wasn't available and while I waited, I see a man pass us who is an old neighborhood friend of my friends'. His nickname is, The candy Man. I think he caught my eye first as my friends' back was toward him, so he gave a quick turn about and stopped to offer condolences. She was not only happy to see a familiar face, but comforted in his words.
     As he needed to leave to make deliveries, the bartender came to me with Larry. Wow was he personable and I meant to get his name, but didn't. Sorry guy:)
Either way he suggested a certain drink as did Larry ensuring it was a tasty drink. So yes, I went with the guys and it was great, called The Nutty Irishman, I could have had four, but knew better or I might just hop, yup hop on the bar and dance.
    Kelly returned a few times, Larry stopped passing but not hovering to make sure we had what we wanted. Kelly had a nice chat with us as the restaurant was slowing down. The Candy Man stopped again to talk more to my friend and invite us both over to his home another time and I watched as my friend had a whole and complete, feel good experience. She didn't want to leave suggesting I have another drink, but if I did, I wouldn't be responsible for my actions:)
     For the bartender, I am sorry I didn't say so long and thanks again for your kind words. Your personality was so welcoming my friend noticed too and let me know what a great and freeing night this is turning out to be.
    For anyone who might read this weather you live close to the Salty Dog or are going to Brooklyn, please do your self a favor. Start with dinner and take some time to check the menu. Listen to the servers. They do know their food as well as beverages very well. It's a blast. It may be a ,little noisy at times, but so what. You're out for a good time right. Take plenty of money, have a few drinks and show your appreciation at the end of an awesome evening. By the way, they also have  a DJ. Music was just starting as we were leaving.
    On my next trip, I want to plan to adjust my time so I alternate lunch and dinners at The Salty Dog. My Friend wants to go to the local hotel  as I usually stay there. It's all about new experiences, some things she has put off way too long. So just imagine, a hotel stay, waking up when yo want and then meals and music at The Salty Dog. One last note, while I love Larry, Kelly, The bus guy, and now adding the bartender, I have been there enough to have different servers, and I've been there with teen boys(foster care) and family and never a negative comment. Bringing the kids in from another state I Let them know about my favorite place to dine. these kids always ask to go back.
      Larry, Kelly and the whole Salty Dog team, I am sincerely thankful to all of you for making me feel like one of the neighborhood regulars. That's what it's all about.
    

Brooklyn, Calling all Brooklynites !

    Hey Brooklynites, help me. I want to come to Brooklyn and stay about three weeks, possibly in June, but when I look for rentals etc, rarely do I see any places in Bay Ridge. They're all downtown, or Park Slope and while most appear to be nice places, I want to stay in Bay Ridge, and I don't and can't spend 2000.00!
     So I may never be able to come back as I want to, but maybe you don't know about this. If you need and want to earn extra money join VRBO=Vacation Rentals By Owners.
    I don't have any connection to that site at all but it sure is a great way to earn extra money. I don't have any idea how it works but if you go to that site, I'm sure you'll find out easy enough. Brooklyn I miss ya. One day I'll find that reasonable and not greedy place to come to, take my bike, walk, go to the libraries and just walk a lot, go out for a bagel, fresh fruit & vegetables from the corner stands, stop in at a local butcher. Sure I have all of that food stuff here too, but the cultures, the pizza, a stop at Nathans, or Katz's deli. So come on Brooklyn, get in it too.
   I grew up in Brooklyn, Bay Ridge but over the years have moved from coast to coast and now in PA. When I can afford it, I come up and stay at the Gregory hotel for two nights, but it's never enough. Come On Brooklyn, imagine what you can earn ?
   Oh this bag is one of many I make. It's10x12, a wrist bag with a zipper closure and lined for 8.00 plus S&H of 1.50 Send to pay pal , to doozybags.

 

Where's Gloria Z? Brooklyn NY

      Maybe this isn't the right way to go about it, but it can't hurt. As time leaves us quickly, I think of old friends and times long ago. I grew up on a cobblestoned street in Bay Ridge Brooklyn and my friends were not the "usual." For what ever reason I attracted and was attracted to kids and adults who many didn't bother with.
       My first, special friend was Gloria Zaugg. She was known then as a deaf mute, and was a few years older than I was, but that never mattered. I enjoyed communicating , playing dolls and just hanging out with Gloria. I hated when people called her, the dummy. I hated them. To this day I don't understand why people are deliberatley mean to one another except as life teaches us, it makes them feel good.
      But Gloria was very good with mouthing her words and you knew you were cursed out when she started. Her best was calling people , Bastards. That she said almost clear. People would laugh when she spoke those words. I would stop and wonder why or how she could say that but not other, regular words. As our friendship grew, I learned she could say in her way, other words, but not ever enough to change the fact that she was still deaf and mute.
     Gloria was built like a Scandanavian Viking. She was very strong and loved to run and throw a ball. We had so much fun. If it was playing dolls or making faces at boys, we knew we had a special friendship.
      The time came when my family moved and she and I lost touch. I heard a few years later she married and had a baby, but you know as is natural, people wonder what happend to those long lost friends, if their life was as good as yours, or better, maybe worse. All I would like to know is, was she happy. If you know about Gloria, please let me know at Norwegianplaid@aol.com
Thanks
P.S. Sometimes friends are better than family

An Open Letter to Kevin G. of Love & Friendship

Dear Kevin

   First here is about one of the last pictures I had of your mom with Mike shoveling snow from her car.( Where were you?)  :) We had such a ball when we were snowed in that winter  at the Gregory hotel and ended up having supper at your moms'.She made roast beef which I think Mike ate the whole thing, mashed potatoes and gravy and vegetables and then had pie.

 That was in 2009 I'm pretty sure. We had 22 inches in New York and they closed the turnpike. Snow was then as it was when your mom and I were kids. Maybe this is more about her, but for you. We were such good friends although it didn't start out that way. She was my sisters friend, same grade in school, yet it wasn't long before we found out how much more she and I were alike. We didn't belong to snob clubs :) Your mom and I were the tallest kids, almost in school and we had so much in common that we felt like twins at times. We loved waiting for one another to walk to school together and talk about crushes. Ask her about Mr. J. Navy man and teacher.

 

     I think what made us work as friends that we understood how things are, were and should be, then and now. We both babysat our siblings and that was a big deal. Not every eleven and twelve year olds are entrusted with such younger brothers or sisters for so much time. We both had strict parents but with different reasons. She and I used to walk up and down the street with the kids, or go see Mr. Korsun up the block.  Mr. Korsun always gave my snotty little brother keys, and your moms sister, Judy was always well behaved, sweet and just a cute kid, as I remember. But we feel different with our own memories of things. Mr. Korsun was like a stoop sitting shrink, what guy he was. I knew I could always talk to him and he would help as he could.

   The last time I saw him was a day I was leaving Brooklyn and just saw your mom. We had breakfast together. On that last time I saw him, your mom called the next day and let me now he passed away. We wonder why things happen so timely. I knew I wanted to see him again since it was so long since the last time.

   But your mom and I would talk to him as if he was just an older and wiser kid. He was. Sometimes there an adult you just know you can tell anything to, well almost anything. To a kid though, as well meaning as some people are, it can be dangerous for the kid to tell that trusted adult. Anyway I met or re met your mom when I moved to 56th st. An apartment became available in a brownstone and as soon as I saw it I was in love all over again, besides Mr. Vitalo; ask your mom.

   The brownstone became our stoop, Mostly mine and Sandy's. I had good landlords and so did she, mainly Mrs Millen and mine was very special too, although her first name escapes me. She and her husband always would sneak me a glass of wine, feeling and know my parents were way too strict with me. ( in a selfish way)

When I told your mom how my landlady stood up to my father, Madeline! That was her name, Madeline Magnotta, well your mom was as happy for me as I was for me. It didn't do any good except to infuriate my father, but inside of me, I felt hope rising. I knew some day I would be a little courageous like her. Boy it took a long, long time :)

    Your mom and I would walk around the corner to get Pizza at Scottie's. Our little crushes there were, Louie and Scottie. I liked Louie. He had dark curly hair, and slow smile and just plain yummy. She like Scottie who had a lighter Sandy colored hair and he seemed to work more than Louie. Scottie only retired a few years ago while Louie died very young. Her men live longer-duh we know that don't we? :)

   Then there was the donut shop around the other corner. On hot summer days, your mom and I would take the kids and get donuts and sodas. Judy loved the donut shop, and so did my brother although he always wanted more.

    As grammar school graduation neared we knew we were going in different directions. Her parents wanted her to get an education. She went to Bay Ridge High and I went to Fort Hamilton when my parents wanted me out of school to continuing babysitting. So it was that which pretty much started a new life for us both. I stayed and babysat until leaving home at twenty-two, seeing your mom off and on and we'd still chat here and there, laugh and with me wishing I could go back to seventh and eighth grade.

   Oh Kevin, one thing I left out. Mr. Korsun...One summer when your mom and I were up at his stoop and his daughter was out I was talking about Mr. Vitalo, my life long love & crush. Mr. Korsun asked where he lived and I told him Levittown. This great and wonderful man says to me, well why don't we take a ride and go see him. We don't have to barge in, just drive by and say hello. Can you imagine from Brooklyn to Long Island to say hello. I think that's where I got my feeling now of, hey I'm off to Brooklyn for some great pizza, BRB-and I do that too. Well a big worry was I knew my father would not let me go and said as much to Mr. Korsun.

     Mr. Korsun said let me talk to him, I'll change his mind. He and I saw my father coming down the steps with trash and Mr. Korsun didn't wast any time. He said let's go kid and together we faced my father. WOW, if only Mr. Korsun was my father, Cigarette in hand he wore a Hawaiian looking green shirt, knee length green colored shorts, and I watched his mustache while he spoke. He reached his hand out first. CRAP, I knew my father was not about to shake hands, but he did.

    In the next few minutes I listened as Mr. Korsun persuaded my father into "wanting me to go along" as any "dad" would. This was magic in the purest sense of the word. He cast a spell over my father. In my heart Mr. Korsun was now my dad. That's who a dad is ! Mr. Korsun told him about how long it would take, taking into consideration traffic and stopping for ice cream and of course no mention of Mr. Vitalo, that he was just going to show us some of Long Island, in a convertible and a look at the beaches. Also he reinforced that his daughter and your mom with her parents approval would go along as well, just a nice day out with the kids. Mr. Korsun drove a red and black Rambler convertible.

     We all piled in with me and your mom in the back feeling all grown-up. I had Mr. Vitalo's address. That's what kids with crushes do. Well you wouldn't believe it. As we neared Levittown Mr. Korsun pulled over and gave us some prepared conversation about if we see Mr. Vitalo we just talk about being out on a hot summers day, checking out towns, beaches and more, a kind of get-a-way day.

     It wasn't long before we pulled into Mr. Vitalo's suburban neighborhood, with what looked like had to be only rich people. Hey, what did I know, I was a kid. Then we came to his street and I watched the numbers go down until we reached 224 and as Mr. Korsun spoke the world around me went quiet. I vaguely heard Mr. Korsun say, well look who's outside watering their lawn. I think I saw him before anyone else did. If I could have fallen over I would have so it was good That I was already seated.

   Still feeling some odd silence although my heart was banging like a baseball bat on a trash can, we finally stopped at the exact spot where Mr. Vitalo stood, holding a hose, looking down into a flower bed, wearing shorts, holy crap! Mr. Vitalo in shorts! He also wore a flowered shirt. There must be a reason. I thought God had to arrange this and given the plan to Mr. Korsun since both men looked to be wearing the same shirt.

    Mr. Vitalo looked up as the car stopped at the curb. I watched his hand twist the nozzle off. I always watched his hands. Mr. Korsun smiled and said excuse us, as he stepped out of the convertible. He moved to where Mr. Vitalo stood , switched hands with his cigarette and reached out to introduce himself and say, I guess you know at least two of these young ladies, yup me and your mom. I was choking inside and became mush but suddenly found my lips. Uh Hi, Hi Mr. Vitalo. He smiled back, oh that smile. Your mom was squishing my shoulder telling me, Nance, look he's in shorts. Oh God don't ya think I know I whispered.

    We all got out had small talk as arranged by Mr. Korsun, leader of the band, as Mr. Vitalo asked, "so what brings you to my door?"  As he and Mr. Korsin spoke, I was sneaking looks at his eyes, glasses, the mole on his cheek, how his mouth moved, his hair and smile. I remember this trip so well as if it was the Ten Commandments ( sorry God) I wanted to cry with thankfulness to Mr. Korsun. I think he knew even then for me it was more than a crush. Mr. Vitalo was my childhood crush, love, example of what makes a man and much more, and Mr. Korsun was my value in all of that as if he knew and understood.

    The visit lasted only about five minutes in Levittown, but lasted a lifetime in my heart, and I got to share that with your mom, Karen, Mr. Korsun's daughter and Mr. Korsun. I think somehow after that I knew Karen was the luckiest kid on the earth and for one day, I was second luckiest.

 

    So Kev, the years after that flew by. We got on with lives, marrying and having children. We both had two, lived in Brooklyn at least for my first child, and yet she and I were no longer connected. Maybe marriages helped with that. But in between school and married life I knew we both went onto a different path.

    Then I moved to Oregon, Washington and California. I finally returned in 1980 and when I saw my mother she told me she bumps into your mom every so often and one day we met on fifth ave. hugging, laughing and happy to see each other again. She gave me her address, the one on e. 29st. That was when I also had the pleasure of meeting your dad. He and I hit it off in an unusual. He wisecracked at me and I gave it right back. A sealed friendship for sure.

    Since then your mom and I have visits as out time allows and my being able to come to NY now that I'm in PA. We still have hilarious times, and that's just talking. Imagine if it was more. But there was a night I asked her to take me to two places. I asked her to keep the engine running and no I didn't rob a store, but I did ring doorbells and run, and it was okay because it was just a couple of guys I knew. That's what makes life fun, harmless stuff. I got back in her Hyundai, we laughed ourselves silly and took off. Sadly I still run but the Hyundai doesn't. Hey maybe a new Hyundai out of this?

     I've gotten to know and meet her two sons, your baby girl and what a wonderful dad you are, and we've shared time too. Your mom and I looked at you and my son on one visit in her kitchen and thought, here we are two ladies, once girls playing stick ball with now grown sons, who now each have a child. Who would have thought? Your mom and I plan some time next year to go back to 56th street again where our friendship started and walk down memory lane. Hey Kev, wanna take a walk?

   When all is said and done, things go back to the kitchen or a diner, two other best places where friends meet, tell secrets, whisper as if they have a secret, pout hearts out, confide and trust and laugh the hardest. We always laugh together. Your mom and I have so many memories of those two places, and I'm sure like many, that's what we not only look back on, but look ahead to. Kev, I'm looking ahead to seeing you in March with your mom. I have something to celebrate and you have to be part of it. I love ya Kev, see you in March-in Brooklyn!

Love you like another son, Nancy

    

 





May 17 and Brooklyn Norwegians

       It isn't the same, not anymore. Okay most things aren't the way they were, but why, why does it have to change so drastically and not for the better. This is a Norwegian day, for squareheads, our nickname. The last time I went to a parade in Brooklyn for May 17, it looked more like the United Nations,  but so does Brooklyn. It felt sad. Yet inspite of it all, I was still happy to be part of it, if only an observer.
       The best part was my daughter Jenny and I, with her friend all went to a local bar filled with Norwegians. I felt right at home. No, not because I was in a bar, although...but because I was surrounded by squareheads in those wonderful sweaters, the Norwegian dress, flags and even accents. I will make sure to continue this blog, and not stay away again for such a long time, after all, I am a Norwegian.