SUMMER PLANS

It’s right around the corner…yes, good old summer. Sun screen, sand on the beach and warm weather.  But I can feel it right now, it’s close to 90 degrees today.

Back in the day we had so much to do as kids living on 9th avenue.

Denis Hamill of the New York Daily News has a great piece recently on his childhood memories from 7th avenue and 12 street. It’s a great read.

For me, besides the boys and girls schoolyards there was Prospect Park, Manhattan Beach, Brighton Beach, Jones Beach, Rockaway and Coney Island. I wasn’t a huge sun worshiper; I have that pasty white, Irish skin…when I sat in the sun, I turned red as a lobster. There were times I burnt to a crisp. We went through a ton of Noxzema.

Some kids went to Breezy (the ones with the money).

Remember the sprinklers at the 11th street playground?

Another way to cool off was turning on the Johnny Pump.

One more exciting thing was owning a pool in your backyard. (I’m sitting here trying to recall which one of my friend’s had a pool?) In Greenwood Lake where my cousins lived, they had a sweet built-in pool.

I went to two camps as a kid. One was a basketball camp and the other was a simple camp where you did many things.  It was a camp where you hiked, fished, played games, and you also worked on some arts and crafts.  I was the only Catholic kid there-I later found out it was a camp for Jewish kids. My landlord Fanny Hyman thought it would be a good idea if my mom sent me away for a couple of weeks. (was she trying to send a message?)

Overall, I had fun at both camps.

My daughter is 11 and she’ll be looking to do a lot of things this summer…of course she’ll be including me in many of them.

What are your thoughts on summer while growing up in the neighborhood? What’s changed over the years?

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

OLD SCHOOL VISUAL

Tags

Imagery, Visual

Anyone want to take a stab at this picture? No hints either…

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

FOREVER YOUNG…

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Age, Basketball, Brooklyn Blog, Bruce Willis, East 5th Street, Football, Inner Child, Joe's Pizza, Kojak, McBears, Michael Jordan, Mid-Life Crisis, Old, P.S. 154, Pizza, Prospect Park Southwest, Schoolyard, Young

It’s inevitable we grow old.

Gradually we’ll slow down, lose some hair, add a few unwanted pounds, (especially around the mid-section) and eventually retire from our job. I don’t know about you but there are times I reach for the Advil or the heating pad because my joints ache in the morning.

But you know what, I’m fighting it like crazy. The good fight that is. Nothing stressful. No worries about this thing they call ‘mid-life crisis’. No staring in the mirror each morning feeling sorry for myself because I look like I’m 65 when I’m only 45.

No botox type shit.

No facelift.

No plastic surgery, no hair plugs (men, let it fall out, shave it off, enjoy your look Kojak, Bruce Willis and Michael Jordan made bald popular!)

I’m talking about thinking young. It’s all in my mind. ‘How old do I feel‘?

Often times in life you hear the expression, “act your age.” Well to me, that pertains to certain situations. There is a time and a place to act like an adult.

But lately, I have been exploring my inner child.

Spending a lot of time around my kid and around my basketball team keeps me feeling young. My job (coaching) enables me to stay in shape.  I try to eat right and workout as often as possible. I’m no candidate for Mr. Universe though.

Like most people, I wish I could turn back time and be a kid again.

There’s nothing wrong with thinking back to the good old days.

Sitting at the counter at Ray and Otto’s on 9th avenue drinking an egg cream.

Rice pudding from Pynn’s deli.

A slice from Joe’s.

An iced tea from Henry’s.

Walking up and down 9th avenue.

Walking to a friend’s house ‘calling for them’. (Do kids still do that?)

Playing 1 on 1 or  3 on 3 basketball, Taps or Around the World in the schoolyard. How about slap-ball, stick ball and football in the schoolyard?

Whiffle ball on Windsor Place.

Hanging out on the park side playing poker on the sidewalk while sipping a brew. In the winter sitting in the hallway on Prospect Park Southwest to stay warm.

Walking down to P.S. 154 schoolyard to play basketball on the half-court with Glenn, Buzzy, Michael Scotto, The Whopper and Michael Kawas. (Remember playing softball and football down there? I always wanted to hit it over the fence for a home run)

Riding our bikes down to East 5th street, playing ball then sitting on the bench rapping about everything from basketball to life until it got dark.

Waking up early Sunday morning to catch a ride outside of Farrell’s to go watch Farrell’s and McBears football kick ass at Farragut Road.

And of course, waking up to attend school at Holy Name Monday through Friday.

Those were the days my friend. No worries, no cares, no responsibility. (On second thought, we did have responsibilities but I was too fucked up to understand that concept)

When I think back to those days, I feel invigorated.  I feel young. I smile, I cry and I think; think about all the great times I had as a youngster growing up on 9th avenue.

So why I can’t I feel that way again? No one wants to get old. So start acting like a kid again.  Turn on the music, dance, sing and like Prince said, “Let’s Go Crazy!”

Matter of fact, I will. Music is on, I’m up dancing and having a good time! And later on today I’m heading out to the park to play some basketball.

Stay young my friend, stay young!

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

THAT LOVIN’ FEELIN’

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Born Again

Maureen Horan was the first girl I fell in love with; I was 14, she was 16. She lived one block away from me on Windsor Place between 7th and 8th avenue.

While driving in my car Saturday afternoon I saw two teenagers (couldn’t be no older than 15) holding hands on the sidewalk walking real slow. They were laughing and smiling; from the looks of things they enjoyed each other’s company. I couldn’t help but think back to the times spent with Maureen.

Maureen was the best. She came from a good family.  Her older brother Timmy was one of the funniest dudes in the neighborhood. One night we were all hanging out on 9th avenue and there was a group of Born Again Christians trying to get us to listen to their message; The out-going crew had a bunch of religious pictures hanging up on the gate of Bob’s Hardware.  The images were mostly of Jesus Christ. Without warning, while we stood there and listened to one of them preach the word and why we needed to be saved, Timmy stuck his head in the circle and asked, “Got any nudes“?

Maureen was smart, she was funny, she had an out-going personality, she was tall and very attractive.  Her eyes were beautiful. Her smile could brighten 9th avenue during the 1977 blackout.

During our time together she treated me very well. She cared so much about me. Maureen had an amazing gift of making you feel special. I had never experienced anything like it before.  I, on the other hand did just the opposite for her…most of the time.

Upon further review, I look back and realize I was too young to understand anything about this thing they call love. I knew nothing about doing things for others, for making them feel special.  She did a great job of  teaching me what love was all about.

We hung out together almost every single night while we dated. Our gang of friends were the best. A typical night had us hanging out in Prospect Park until it was time to go home. If you were lucky enough to be dating someone, you’d walk them home. Holding hands walking along 9th avenue, past Farrell’s where the old men standing at the bar by the window would look out and stare at us.  Heading down Windsor Place we were sometimes quiet and sometimes chatty. I never wanted the walk to end.  Finally we’d get to Maureen’s house right off the corner of 8th avenue and take a seat on her stoop.  We’d sit and chat, sometimes sneaking a quick kiss or two until her mother would call out to her from the second floor window letting her know it was time to come upstairs.

Before departing, I’d hug her tight and kiss her so long that she’d have to break away from me; I really didn’t want to leave.  As I walked back up Windsor towards ninth, I couldn’t wait to see her the next day.  But it didn’t stop there. I’d call her on the phone once I got home and we’d talk some more; I didn’t want our conversation to end but I’d hear her mother telling her it was time to hang up the phone and go to sleep.

Let me put it this way; it’s not like I was awful to her all the time; it’s just that I recall all the negative ways in which I treated her-because after a couple of years, she had enough of me and it led to her leaving me for someone who treated her the right way. I spent many of nights wondering what I did to lose her.

After some much-needed soul-searching, the one thing I took from my relationship with Maureen was that I was never, ever going to treat another woman like that again. I was going to learn from my mistakes; I was going to be a great mate.  I firmly believe that’s why I’ve been with my wife for close to 20 years now…

Passing the two lovebirds on Saturday, I wondered how much they really knew about love. About treating each other with kindness and respect. Mainly, the male treating his girlfriend the right way…Just so he doesn’t make the same terrible mistake I made and not lose a good thing.

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

STREET EDUCATION

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Container Diaries

This is a revised blog entry from back when I started Container Diaries 32 months ago.

As a kid growing up on 9th avenue there were a few professional athletes who I admired. In baseball there was George Brett of the Kansas City Royals.  Phil Chenier of the Baltimore Bullets was my favorite basketball player, I even wore number 45 for the Bantam team. But the real people I admired were the older guys in the neighborhood. Guys like Gerard Trapp, Danny Pisselli, Alan Lang, and the late Vinny Brunton.

Trapp was a great basketball player, arguably the best to come out of our neighborhood.  Pisselli was an excellent coach (basketball, track, and baseball) Lang was a point guard in basketball who was exciting to watch and Brunton was a great guy that displayed nothing but class. Sadly, Brunton, a New York City firefighter passed away on Sept. 11, 2001 at the World Trade Center trying to save lives when terrorists struck the Twin Towers.

As a youngster, I wasn’t smart enough to learn from these four guys. As I got older, wiser and more educated, I think about them and the lessons they tried to teach.  I wish I was smart enough back then to listen to the older guys who took the time to give me advice.

Teenagers think they know it all. They seldom listen to their elders. Just like me, they think they can get it done their way. Not taking someone’s advice who has been successful is the biggest mistake you can make. Not listening to someone who has ‘been there and done that‘ can set you back in the game of life. (Isn’t there a piece of advice you received as a kid that wish you would’ve acted on?)

One of my biggest mistakes in life was not listening to Trapp, Pisselli, Lang and Brunton. Today, I think about what they tried to teach me when I was in my early teens. I put their advice to use as an adult and I’m glad I remembered their message.

Brett and Chenier couldn’t do anything for me that would’ve helped me later in life; sure they got me excited about sports but that can only take you so far.  People like Gerard, Danny, Alan and Vinny and many others from Windsor Terrace helped mold me into the person I am today.

The learning process is never-ending; whether you are 15 or 55.  The only way to succeed is through constant learning.

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

YOO-HOO, I’LL MAKE YA FAMOUS

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Denis Hamill

Our guy Denis Hamill of the New York Daily News wrote about the tremendous support for Patrick Cregg after he put together a piece about Cregg’s van needs.  In his latest piece he gives a shout out to the blog.  That sportsfans, made my day!

Guys like Jimmy Houlihan from Farrell’s Bar and Cregg’s old pals in Windsor Terrace set up a fund-raiser, publicizing it on the popular Container Diaries neighborhood blog site. Another “good Irishman” who asked anonymity called Cregg and sent a check for $20,000.

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

MORNIN’ RITUAL

Tags

Alarm Clock, Cereal, kids, Morning Ritual, Spongebob Square Pants

Each and every morning, Monday through Friday, our 11 year-old daughter Taylor gets up for school. She’s finishing up the 5th grade. (By the way, when I was in the 5th grade, Mr. Mussa was my favorite teacher; Miss Monzillo, my 7th grade teacher was a very close second)

It begins with getting her up at 7:20, handing her a glass of chocolate milk while she checks out Spongebob Square Pants on the boob-tube. (I’ve come to the conclusion that his screaming this early in the morning is too taxing-no more Spongebob)

A few minutes later she comes downstairs for breakfast. Most often it’s her favorite cereal, Trix. While Taylor eats at the table (half-asleep) I pack her lunch which was prepared by my wife the night before. (I miss the days of coming home for lunch at 12 o’clock)

After she polishes off the bowl it’s time to get dressed.  Brushing her teeth and her hair is a given.

8:20 and it’s time to jump in the car while we carry her heavy bookbag and lunch box to make the drive to school.(I lived across the street from Holy Name. I usually had one, maybe two books in my hand)

During this time of day, how difficult is it for you? When I first started in this thing they call parenthood, it was crazy. I was out of control. Always yelling, always screaming. “COME ON TAYLOR, WAKE UP!” or it was, “LET’S GO HURRY UP OR YOU’LL BE LATE!”

Not anymore.

Arguably, Monday’s are the hardest, no kid wants to get up (shit, us grown-ups don’t want to get up but we have to). The thick, heavy, soft blankets over their body keeps them warm. Who really wants to get out from under them? And why is it the person sleeping always gets mad at the person sendng the wake-up calls? We’re just trying to help for crissakes.

But it’s in our job description as parents to get them up and at ’em. We do everything we can. We try the nice, soft, sweet approach and if that doesn’t work, we get tougher and tougher when they ignore our calls.

A few weeks ago I came across a story in the New York Times on child development. The author mentioned, “If you make it easy on the kid today, they’ll have it hard tomorrow.” That quote has stayed with me ever since.

As a kid growing up on 9th avenue, it was tough for me in the morning to get motivated.  Eating cereal, getting dressed, the brushing of the hair and teeth. There were some mornings I didn’t brush my hair nor did I eat anything.  Yeah, I know, both gross and sad.

To top things off, I was often late for school…and I lived right across the street! I recall mornings in my house where I rolled out of bed as the bell from school was our alarm clock; slid my school uniform on and walked across the street. I was so late at times Angel, our crossing guard on the corner was already gone from her usual post.

On mornings I did get up on time, I’d often peek out my bedroom window and wonder who were those kids waiting outside school at 8:00AM? How did they get up so early and why were they there 45 minutes before the bell?

When I look back on those morning rituals, I have to say, I learned a ton. These days as a parent, I could never allow my kid to be late for school. She has to eat, brush her hair and teeth. It’s a work in progress but we manage.

How’s your morning ritual with the kids; tough? easy?

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com

GAMES PEOPLE PLAY

Tags

7 Minutes in Heaven, Baseball cards, Kick the Can, Off the Point, Skelly, Street Games, Tug of War

Do kids still play ‘Kick the Can’?

‘Off the Point’?

What about ‘Skelly’?

‘Red-Light, Green-Light’?

What about ‘Tug-of-War’?

I’ll even go deeper; ‘7 Minutes in Heaven’?

Do kids collect baseball cards and ‘flip-em’?

I guess with video games and computers, today’s youth are missing out on some fun street games to play.

-Steve

Hoops135@hotmail.com