Category Archives: Reader Stories

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.

In the North Bx.,E223St…

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In the North Bx.,E223St and Paulding Ave in the early thirties, we sat on the stoop of our two-family houses and sewed clothing for the little five-cent celluloid dolls, bought at Berkies candy store.We also made things out of peach pits by scraping them against the rough cement of the stoop .Remember, anyone? Annette

I remember growing up in…

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I remember growing up in Brooklyn before they had the net and public outcry against pedophiles. All the kids knew where the creeps were. You could always find some guy dressed up as a clown sitting in his car parked outside playground gates, offering children candy or balloons twisted into animal shapes. Invariably some idiot kid would be stupid enough to go to the car and the low-life would flash them. Then the bunch of us would assault the creep with rocks and glass until he drove off. The thought of calling the cops never crossed our minds back then. I guess that’s because it wasn’t talked about in public much. Later as a teen, I remember that the pedophiles were always the guys who wanted to offer you change to play video games when you ran out. And I also remember there was a short bald guy in Washington Square Park who used to try to offer young girls $50.00 to step on him with spike heels in some private place of their choosing. I’m sure their modus operandi has not changed much over the years. Accept they’re more daring and want to do alot more than flash you.

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.