Ron and a Spalding Ball

    

  For some time now, this gentleman has been making home improvements to state it as a matter of fact. But more than that, he offers suggestion, always with a gentle few words such as, "now I'm not saying you should, just think about it". He's usually right on target. Anything from rototilling  a garden to fixing doors, cutting down brush, picking up and moving concrete blocks and hauling it away, measuring and replacing bathroom tiles, checking roof vents, put up a side awning, storm doors, well I can't think of more off the top of my head-oh yes, he has even driven over to do my driveway, snow removal.
      Ron has also at times given a little bit of manly advice to a kid here or there in my home. Now if he could just cook!
       While I feel guilty knowing he's working so hard, I really want to lay down on the sofa, put on the TV and rest. I am trying to improve things in the home, room by room and now my biggest issues is the kitchen, but day to day I get a little more done.
       Now, the spalding ball and Ron. Today he is outside clearing away years of junk piled up and comes across a "spaldeen", as we as kids always called it but officially a spalding ball, small, pink and happy. Lost in the debris of leaves, tires, iron posts and wood, it finds Ron. Yes, I know Ron found it. Yes, as many times as kids have been playing there, in all the last fifteen years, no one found it. You see that little ball was only meant to be found by a guy from Brooklyn. I am also from Brooklyn, made sense. I washed it right away. But years of dirt grabbed onto the pink surface. Like us, we wear away, yet underneath, we're just like that spalding ball, anxious to pop up again.
     Stepping inside Ron, bounces the ball and tells me look what I found; remember stick ball? Boy did I!  I could hit two sewers. This was the happiest part of my day. There's noting at all like a childhood memory from where a person grew up to bring a sparkle of happiness along with a step of youth, pictures of the block, friends and nostalgia. The windmills of our minds as the song goes. Thank you Ron, for all of your  hard work and the memory, refreshed.

Those Brooklyn People...

       As we approach another year left behind and try to plan for a new one, I find myself looking way back, so far back I almost trip myself.
       I think about the streets, the kids, baby carriages, cars, hair styles, music, church, police, freedoms, foods and everything life gave us then.
      So let first look at the neighborhood streets, many made of cobblestones, a black topped looking little brick, rounded and smoothed and filled in with more black. Wearing old skates made of metals, a kid could feel their feet make that brr sound, almost like your feet were doing hic cups. Then the lam posts. So tall, fancy designs and odd shaped lighting, but classy. The sidewalks were squares of concrete, nice enough to play box ball. Combined streets and sidewalks kids could play all day and night outside without getting into trouble.
       From marbles, hit the stick, stick ball, punch ball, monkey in the middle, running bases, blinds man bluff, cork cork a levio, pitching cards, flipping cards and so many more, we were never bored.
       Baby Carriages were almost like making a statement, poor or not. Any new mom seemed to find a new carriage and a fancy blanket comforter style would lay across the bottom, winter or summer. My baby brother Jimmy had the fanciest on the block-until a new baby was born and we were considered poor. I never thought of things that way even when told. I just thought we didn't have a lot of money. That was okay too.
      Remember Old Spice, Brute, English Leather, Chantilly, Tabu, and those great hairstyles. Friday night the closest Catholic church held dances and my brothers all went as well as my sister. Me? I ironed shirts, slacks and made sure the hair tonic bottle was ready and with a younger brother shined shoes. Then got my baby brother ready for his crib...think he stayed there until he was about fifteen :)
         We had hot summer days with the ice cream truck coming around, you know the kind a uniformed man reached way in with freezer air coming out, reaching for a toasted almond. Yeah, The Good Humor truck ! Night time brought mister Softee, neighbors sitting and drinking ice tea, windows open with blinds raise up to the top. Well that depends what block you lived on. If you were very poor, your blinds were all the way, but somewhat poor, blinds were half way up.
       Even on those nights when it was sweltering hot, it was never too hot for pizza from the local pizza place, walking around the corner with a best friend and talking about a latest crush.
     What made all of those times work better than other's would be the neighbors, the sounds of accents, laughter, whispers and just spending time on stoops, after all what were we if without a stoop? Those stoops were our hangouts, our homes, almost a safe haven. We knew if we didn't see one another during the day, that sometime later in the afternoon, one of us or a parent would be on the stoop.
      That's Brooklyn and the people in it. If you can make it there...you know the rest, now smile that knowing Brooklyn smile.