Category Archives: Manhattan
I grew up in the Inwood…
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I grew up in the Inwood section of upper Manhattan. One of the things only girls did with spaldeens was to bounce the ball while chanting certain rhymes, turning one leg over the bouncing ball on certain words. One of the rhymes went something like: Oliver Twist, can’t do this, touch his knee, touch his toe, (something something…) and over we go. You turned over on Twist, this and go. You’d touch your knee and toe where indicated. I can’t remember one of the lines. After you did this, you’d start all over, but this time you’d do everything twice: Oliver Twist Twist, etc. You’d go up until you gave up or got bored. Another bouncing game was A My Name Is Alice. You’d go through the alphabet: A my name is Alice, and my husband’s name is Al, and I come from Alabama, and I sell apples. Does anyone remember these games?
REMEMBER PERIODICALY DEFECTING…
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REMEMBER PERIODICALY DEFECTING TO NYC 42nd Street FROM BROOKLYN TO SPEND A DAY WATCHING CHEAP “B” ACTION, HORROR, AND KIDDIE SKIN FLICKS CHARLES BRONSON’S VIGILANTE, BRUCE LEE, FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH, HELL-RAISER, ETC. There was always more action in the theater than on the screen. Guys on angeldust leaping from the top balconies onto the audience below screaming “I can fly”; gun-shots and stampedes, setting off fire sprinklers… snickering at the couples using the back seats as motels, oh, the memories. Once after having seafood and pasta, I went to 42nd street to see a horror movie with an old guy-friend and spent the entire movie wretching (and I wasn’t bulemic) in the john, as some crazy girl stood outside my stall singing gospel songs, the worst of it is she had a beautiful eerie voice. (Kind’ve like Kate Bush singing Wurthering Heights)It was weird. I went to some drive-in theaters in the south and they had the same cheap movie thrill as 42nd street and they had an apparent b-movie star that I had not been aware of before: Dolomite!
What about the ice man who…
Growing up in Washington…
I just read all the messages…
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I just read all the messages and most apply to me. First at 108 street Manhattan east side, then 89th Street West side. When I returned from the army my first thought when walking home was how empty the streets were. No Ball Games. I had played them all and great fun. Cops to watch out for, Hide sticks, two sewer hitters were rare but after all claimed to be. Older guys played for money, not me. Balls on roof and balls in basement..watch out for the Nazi who lived there… and pepsi for 5 cents were all part of it. Stopping when parent called and the game went on for those remaining. So many memories. Thanks I told my sons abourt these and they were impresses, not having known stickball..
I grew up in Highbridge,…
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I grew up in Highbridge, 1944 -1966. Attended Sacred Heart, Manhattan prep and Fordham, then off to Vietnam and maturity!. It is impossible to explain to someone who didn’t exprience it what growing up in the 50’s – 60’s Bronx neighborhoods was like. I still remember the “checker” games we played on the sidewalk boards. Box ball and off the point with a pink “Spauldine” (25 cents!!) were simple games that I hope are recorded somewhere . George, 1210 Woodcrest 3C
I live in Alpine but grew…
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I live in Alpine but grew up in NY in a place called Spanish Harlem. I can remember as a little girl going into other neighborhoods to watch my father and his buddies challenge other teams. Most of the games were played on Sundays and the people would all take the cars off the block so the guys could play. I was Daddy’s girl and also the son he never had. Most of the games were played for big money, each man putting up a certain amount. My favorite place was Little Italy. They played right on Mott and Hester Street and I remember having a huge crush on a player from the other team. I was all of 8 years old. Those were the good old days. People would be hanging ot windows and families would be on their fire escapes with salami sandwiches to cheer their teams on. Win or lose, everyone had a good time and never did I witness any fights or hard feelings. I was always proud of Daddy and even though he is to old for stickball I’m still proud to be his little girl.
Growing up In Brooklyn and…
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Growing up In Brooklyn and Manhattan, I’ve lived on the 6th floor, the 4th, and the 3rd. I remember the skill it took to throw the keys down to a visitor, or family. This doesn’t work too safely from floors higher than the 8th, but for the lower floors there was a definate art to it. I remember putting the keys into a raggedy (but clean) sock, so that they wouldn’t kill the visitor who invariably insisted on trying to catch it rather than let physics take it’s natural course. Small paper bags were a regular, too. Also the skill of not mis-targeting and landing your set of keys in the gutter grid, down with the NYC rats and their welcome committee. (I lost a handball down there once and was welcomed). Siblings always aimed for your head when you asked them to throw the keys down. The brass or steel they used back then must’ve been a heck of a lot stronger than they are now because they hardly ever broke; considering they were tossed out of the window onto concrete several times a day. Keys nowadays (especially my ignition keys) break after a few months. My folks have keys so old the print has worn off of them.
There was a new girl in…
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There was a new girl in town (Lower East Side) that I’d welcomed into my fold of homegirls. When I returned from a short trip to Europe, my recent boyfriend informed me that one of my friends showed up on his fire escape at 3 a.m, the very night I left for the airport. He didn’t know her name but the description was enough. Her name was Helena, we used to call her “hell raisin’Helena”. After being hurt and then totally pissed, I went to the “watering Hole” that we young adults played pool at nightly. I told all of my friends of Helena’s indescretion and I informed her that I was as good-looking if not more so than she. She had a little boyfriend and I approached him. I asked him, that knowing now what kind of person Helena was, climbing a guy’s fire escape in the dead of night like some desperate “alley cat”, wouldn’t he rather be with someone more chaste like me? I told her in front of everyone that I can take any man she had because unlike her, my hair my nails, my eyes and everything about me was real. And I wasn’t so needy of attention. I never had a problem out of her after that, she left the neighborhood. What a verbal cat fight we had. The guys were lovin’ every moment.