A redo of an old post, but now I have pictures and videos of the old house.
My early memories are of Laurelton NY. Which was out in Queens kind of close in on Long Island. My Grandmothers house, where we lived when my father was away on ships. A tight little neighborhood (tucked into the big city) that was friendly and allowed a young boy of my pre-school age the run of the block. There was a big (in my mind) back yard. I played there endlessly and I am sure if you were to buy the property today you could dig the back yard up and find a hundred metal soldiers and metal cars that might fetch the cost of the house in auction. The back yard was also a squirrel sanctuary and I would spend many a morning at the kitchen table watching the squirrels run all over the yard. At that breakfast table was always something wonderful DELIVERED every morning from Enteman's Bakery, along with the delivered milk, and some chocolate milk if I was lucky and had been deemed to be a good boy.
In the front yard there was an Umbrella tree (called that because no rain ever hit you sitting under it) with a metal bench rocker that could fit two or three people. There was a brick porch (painted red) and the siding on the house was roofing material, meant to look pretty..not artistic. In the evenings people in the neighbor hood would walk by, stop and chat and we too would walk the block and stop and chat with them. There was a boy (a teen, named Billy from a recent conversation with Aunt Frannie) that lived down the block who was a spastic (or so they called them that back then) who would walk by dragging his feet, arms bouncing around in the air. He would always stop and talk to my two aunts (teenagers at the time) who were always so nice to him. Across the street and down to the left was an old brick Jewish Synagogue that had a wonderful back wall to throw a ball against. I spent many an hour there practicing my future as a big league pitcher.
My Great Grandmother Cook would sit in the attic of the house peering out and would call me to come sit by her at times. Her room was a shrine to Jesus with scary pictures of him on the cross everywhere. She would sit on her bed, rubbing her legs and knees and tell me what it took to be a good boy and how I should behave. I would sit and fidget and occasionally stare out the window and see who was doing what. She would point out boys I shouldn't play with and tell me all the bad things she had seen them do, and of course I could not wait to go out and catch up with them.
My Aunts would torment me. Calling me names and always trying to hug and kiss me; yeeech. My Aunt Franny was dating my Uncle Frank back then and I always enjoyed it when he was around. Such a cool guy. He would talk with me and treated me so well. I also remember Aunt Vickie dating Bobby Girardi (as he was called then, I believe he has turned into Robert) and Bobby was a smooth hip guy and was good to me as well. I am sure I was just a little pest to them all, but it was neat to be part of such a family with big people doing semi grown-up things.Every afternoon (and I never wised up) my grandmother or one of my aunts would call me in and tell me my favorite show was on. Sucker that I was I would race in, lay down on the floor in front of the TV and watch the words roll down the screen (early cable news) with soft music playing and pictures of puppies or rabbits in the background. I would lie there impatiently at first waiting for that damn show to start (because it was my favorite, and I certainly did not want to miss it) and before I knew it....they had tricked me into my nap, again.
