I lived on the corner of Ninth Avenue and Windsor Place; Third floor over Bob’s Hardware Store.
When my mother wanted me to go to the store she would put money in a napkin, fold it up and toss it out the window to me.
“Run to Associated and get me milk,” she would say.
I’d look up, observe her hanging out the window and before she would toss the crumbled up napkin down to me she would look around first.
“Just throw it, come on!” I screamed back up at her, clearly agitated at her delay.
The napkin would free-fall with the money into my hands. I would cup my mitts like Willie Mays in centerfield.
Sometimes there would be just bills inside, sometimes coins and sometimes both.
Regardless, I hated going to the store for mom but loved trying to catch the napkin.