Up on simpson street in the bronx we hung out on the rooftops. We would plug in a record player to the hall light and dance on the sticky tar.Sometimes we would climb down to the street via the firescape and many times that top ladder to the roof was ajar from the building and shook enough to send us tumbling to the street below if we did not watch it. On the way down,being Puerto Rican neighborhood we would have to jump over jugs of a formenting drink called mavi.Each landing had a different aroma of pork chops, pastelillos, rice and beans and fried chicken. We would reach the bottom of the back yard starving and we had to be quick because there always was a mean dirty dog named buster waiting to bite someone. We would then go out to the street and play kick the can.ringolivio, stickball, marbles, johnny on the pony, skully or hitch on the back of trucks that we leave us somewhere in long island.A typical day back in the fifties.we had mucho fun.
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