Day 16 of 365 Images in 365 Days…
Staircase from the Windsor Place entrance to Holy Name.
Those were the days my friend…
06 Monday May 2024
Posted Container Diaries, Holy Name, Steve Finamore, Windsor Place
inDay 16 of 365 Images in 365 Days…
Staircase from the Windsor Place entrance to Holy Name.
Those were the days my friend…
05 Sunday May 2024
Tags
1972, Brooklyn, Container Diaries, Holy Communion, Holy Name, Prospect Park, Schoolyard, Windsor Terrace
Day 15 of 365 images in 365 days…
It’s Holy Communion time. No better time than now to pull this classic photo from the archives.
From left to right: Finamore, Langton and Godfrey. Holy Name Communion. Circa 1972.
“The body of Christ…”
If you know, you know.
Those were the days my friend…
01 Wednesday May 2024
Tags
Brooklyn, Coco-Lee-Vee-O, Container Diaries, Holy Name, Schoolyard, Sports, Steve Finamore, Windsor Terrace
365 images in 365 days…
Holy Name schoolyard – oops, make that the “girl’s schoolyard.”
This place used to be a sports wonderland.
Stick ball, slap ball, punch ball, football, off the point, tag, manhunt, coco-lee-vee-o…
We even used it as a place to hang out morning, noon and night.
Those were the days my friend…
24 Wednesday Apr 2024
Tags
Basketball, Brooklyn, Container Diaries, Holy Name, Schoolyard, Sports, Steve Finamore, Windsor Terrace
Posted by Steve | Filed under Boys Schoolyard, Holy Name, Holy Name Church, Steve Finamore
22 Saturday Apr 2023
Posted Basketball, Boys Schoolyard, Container Diaries, Holy Name, Steve Finamore
inTags
Baseball, Basketball, Brooklyn, Cartoons, Cereal, Container Diaries, Farrell's, Holy Name, Howard place, Prospect Avenue, Prospect Park, Saturday, Schoolyard, Sports, Windsor Terrace
Saturday morning.
No school. Sleep in a bit. Cartoons. Cereal. And…
Holy Name boys schoolyard.
Those were the days my friend.
Hope all is well.
–Steve
12 Saturday Nov 2022
Posted Blog, Danny Piselli, Georgie Rauthier, Holy Name, Holy Name of Jesus, Joe Farrell
inTags
Baseball, Basketball, Brooklyn, Container Diaries, Cross Country, Holy Name, Schoolyard, Sports, Track, Windsor Terrace
“Three important things to me that categorize a really good coach: the ability to teach, the ability to inspire people and discipline people.”
-Ray Shero
Last week I listed my teachers at Holy Name. Today I’m going to post the men who coached me in various sports at Holy Name.
3rd grade – Georgie Rauthier, basketball.
4th and 5th grades – Danny Piselli, basketball.
6th grade – Joe Farrell, (AKA, Fonz) basketball and baseball.
Mr. Gruschow was our track and cross country coach.
Those were the days my friends…
Have a positive day and hope all is well.
-Steve Finamore
E-Mail: SteveFinamore@yahoo.com
08 Tuesday Nov 2022
Posted Blog, Holy Name, Holy Name of Jesus, Miss Lynn, Miss Monzillo, Mr. Mussa
inTags
Brooklyn, Container Diaries, Holy Name, Miss Lynn, Mr. civello, Mr. Mussa, Schoolyard, Windsor Terrace
“When the student is ready, the teacher appears.” -John Wooden
Schoolteachers can make a huge impact on a student both positive and negative. They can inspire and motivate. For some reason this morning I was thinking about my schoolteachers at Holy Name.
I remember all of them…
1st grade – Sister Barbara and Sister Maureen
2nd grade – Miss Herlihy
3rd grade – Miss Lynn
4th grade – Miss Mauro
5th grade – Mr. Mussa
6th grade – Mr. Civello
7th grade – Miss Monzillo
8th grade – Miss Hertel/Prescott. I believe she got married during the year.
Can’t forget about our building substitute teacher, Mr. Verzi.
I wish I would have been a better student.
Those were the days my friend.
Hope all is well. Have a positive day.
-Steve Finamore
E-Mail: SteveFinamore@yahoo.com
14 Saturday May 2022
Tags
Brooklyn, Container Diaries, Father Devlin, Holy Name, Priests, Prospect Park, Religion, Schoolyard
Last night while out to dinner with my wife and Taylor, our 23 year-old daughter, Taylor asked, “Dad, what’s an altar boy?”
My wife looked at her and said, “Your dad wasn’t one.”
LOL.
She was right.
Sipping on a hot cup of coffee this morning I was thinking back to my days attending Holy Name of Jesus from 1970 to 1978 and the possibilities of becoming an altar boy.
In the second grade I made my holy communion. It was an awful day. We had been practicing every day leading up to that historical Saturday morning in May. I recall getting out of class and walking to the church to go over our duties, tasks and responsibilities.
My partner was Joanne Mackey (RIP) a pretty girl from Windsor Place who I would have a crush on all through grammar school. I’m pretty sure her twin brother Michael (RIP) was an altar boy. My mother was a no-show that morning. That’s right. When I woke up she wasn’t there. My older brother dressed me.
Ma, you did the best you could with what you had.
It has to be mentioned the Gooch was a no-show too. (Gooch was my father)
After communion I had to attend Mass every Sunday. Wasn’t a big fan of waking up early on Sunday morning. I wanted to sleep in. Altar boys don’t sleep in. They are early risers. Serving Mass at the Saturday night 5:30 service would have been suitable for me.
When the collection basket came around I never had any money to contribute, my family was poor. Ma gave me some change for the basket one day but I kept it and bought candy from Rae and Otto’s. When the basket was passed in front of my face I had thoughts of snatching a bill or two. By the way, where did all that cash go? Who got the dough? Why not distribute the funds to the families in the parish who were in need? Like the Finamore Family was often late with the school tuition.
At the start of mass until the very end (“Mass is ended, go in Peace…”) the altar boys mastered the little things, something I wasn’t very good at. They were the priests’ assistants. They always had the same look on their faces; No one smiled. They were so serious. Intense. I was the opposite. Always messing around. Laughing and lacking in self-discipline, filled with much anxiety. I lacked the poise to carry the Chalice. Knowing me, I would have dropped it or spilled the wine. When I think of those last three words, I think of the 1970’s smash hit by War.
The communion wafer was tasteless but there were Sunday mornings I didn’t eat breakfast so I took advantage of the nutritious treat. I once thought of going up for seconds, I was that hungry.
Hey Father Shine, can I take a sip of the wine to wash down the wafer?
The altar boys were disciplined. They possessed the traits necessary to be where they were. Good grades I’m sure factored in the decision making. That was not me.
What was the process to be one of the chosen few?
Good family? Introvert? Well behaved? Three strikes and I’m out…
I had a few friends who were chosen to help the priests during mass, but for some reason I was never asked. Actually, I know the reason, I wasn’t a good fit.
Word on the street was altar boys made decent cash for weddings. I liked the thought of that. But I still didn’t apply. Imagine me walking up to the rectory asking to be an altar boy? The door would have been shut in my face. By the way, I never heard any announcement in school about signing up.
“IF JULIO AND RAFAEL ARE IN THE BUILDING PLEASE REPORT TO THE OFFICE,” is what we often heard.
My interactions with the priests at Holy Name were mostly negative. If I got caught playing ball late at night in the boys schoolyard, I was called down to the office and given a lecture. I recall being hit with the paddle a few times on my skinny ass. Just for being in the yard, doing what I loved, playing basketball.
In my late teens Father Devlin arrived from St. Mary’s Mother of Jesus. He was good people. Always on my side, always looking to help me. He ran a great Sunday morning football league in Prospect Park.
Looking back, I’m glad I wasn’t an altar boy. At times I was jealous of them, thinking about it, the gig wasn’t for me. I was more into sports, hanging out with my friends and getting into trouble.
Hope all is well.
-Red
E-Mail: SteveFinamore@yahoo.com
13 Saturday Nov 2021
Posted Boys Schoolyard, Holy Name, Steve Finamore
inEvery Saturday morning when I wake up, I always think of the boys schoolyard at Holy Name. I’m dead serious. I’m in my late 50’s and I still think about my “paved paradise.”
There’s not a Saturday that goes by where I don’t think of the childhood memory of waking up early on Saturday and walking around the corner to play basketball with my friends.
We didn’t have a gym so our basketball teams at Holy Name practiced in the schoolyard. In the rain, cold, snow…didn’t matter. We had a love for the game.
Those were the days my friends…
17 Sunday Oct 2021
Posted Basketball, Holy Name
inI played on the basketball teams at Holy Name in the 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th grades. I can’t remember if we had a team in the 7th grade but I know for a fact we didn’t have a team in the 8th grade. We didn’t have anyone to coach us. I bummed. We would have been good too.
In the fifth grade we got new uniforms. The jersey number that you wear for your team is important. One day there was a bunch of us in the schoolyard and I was making a few outside shots and all of a sudden from outside the fence on Howard Place Tom Brady shouts, “RED, YOU SHOOT LIKE PHIL CHENIER!” No, not the Bucs QB, this was a different Tom Brady. My nickname was “Red.”
Brady was a local guy that loved basketball. He was always around the schoolyard watching and at times would be playing. I chose number 45 because of Phil Chenier of the Baltimore Bullets. Other kids on my team also chose their numbers because of their favorite player or a player they resembled. Ricky Ferro who was our point guard wore number 10 because of Walt Frazier. Ricky was a leader and a good defender. Glenn Thomas wore 35 because he loved Larry Kenon of the New York Nets. Jimmy Cullen was Pete Maravich, he had number 44. Jimmy Corrar, one of our taller players was 32 because of Julius Erving. Sean Riley was 41 for Wes Unseld. Sean was a rugged player that pushed people around and was strong as an ox. Michael Campbell wore 24 for Rick Barry. John Godfrey wore 4 for Jerry Sloan. We had a fun year.
Hope I didn’t forget anyone.
-Steve
E-Mail: SteveFinamore@yahoo.com