• Contact the Author
  • ROLL CALL

CONTAINER DIARIES

~ By Steve Finamore

CONTAINER DIARIES

Tag Archives: Booze

TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT

02 Friday Sep 2016

Posted by Steve in Blog, Prospect Park

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Booze, Container Diaries, Friday night, Girlfriend, Ironworker, Prospect Park

As a kid I loved Friday night.

When I was 15, I had a blast. Hard to choose; Friday or Saturday as my favorite day of the week?

IMG_0855

Slept in.

Went to the schoolyard to play ball.

Ate pizza.

Played some more ball.

Afterwards we hung out on the corner of Windsor and Ninth watching all the people go by. We broke balls. You learned to take it. We broke more balls.

Went home for dinner. Fishcakes and beans.

Showered and went over to Prospect Park. It’s the place we met up. You just knew to go there. If you grew up in the neighborhood, as a teen, it’s where you hung out. Each generation. Parkside. Circle. In the park. The benches. Pick a spot. We spent time there.

At around seven o’clock picked up some booze. Walked back to the park. Always in a brown paper bag, trying to hide it. Little did we know, everyone knew what we had under our arms. LOL

Head over to the bleachers, take a seat and we’re off.

Drink and bullshit. Bullshit and drink.

Music on the radio, come on baby.

There must have been 20 of us. Sometimes more, sometimes less.

You were always welcomed if you were an outsider. If you came from another parish. If you came in peace.

Friends hanging out. Having fun. Not a care in the world. Teacher, leave them kids alone.

No idea what was ahead.

No clue as to what I wanted to do.

Oh wait, I wanted to be an Ironworker. Still had a couple of years to go though.

At around eight or nine you snuggled up with your lady.

Holding hands. Touching. Kissing.

Next you and your girl took a walk.

Either you went behind the bleachers or you walked out to the diamonds.Maybe you walked up to Quaker cemetery?

Time to make-out. Plant that kiss. I had no idea what to do. No one ever taught me how to kiss.

Maybe you chased each other around a little.  All in fun of course.

Pairing off with your girlfriend was my favorite time of the night. Always looked forward to it. I was in love. Puppy love.

Somewhere around eleven, it was time to go.

Saying good-bye to everyone and making that walk to her house.

Holding hands exiting the park. A little buzzed. Walking across ninth avenue, past Farrell’s; men looking at you. “There he goes…”

Hanging a right down Windsor Place.

At a snails pace I might add.

In front of the house, I hated kissing her good-night. I didn’t want her to go. Wanted to be with her all-night. Felt like I may never see her again.

Couldn’t wait for tomorrow…

Red

Hoops135@hotmail.com

Image

ON THE COVER OF THE ROLLIN’ STONE

27 Wednesday Jul 2016

Tags

Booze, Brooklyn, Container Diaries, Friends, Teenagers

My friends

Posted by Steve | Filed under Blog

≈ 19 Comments

THE DRINK

06 Tuesday Oct 2015

Posted by Steve in CC Sabathia, New York Yankees

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Booze, Family

Happy to see CC Sabathia of the New York Yankees checking into rehab.

http://nypost.com/2015/10/06/the-weekend-long-bender-behind-cc-sabathias-rehab-stay/

Over the years I have seen alcohol kill people and crush their families. I don’t think we as a society talk about it enough.

-Red

Hoops135@hotmail.com

WHOSE WINE? WHAT WINE? WHERE THE HELL DID I DINE?

25 Sunday Jan 2015

Posted by Steve in Church, Container Diaries, Farrell's, Neighborhood

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Basketball, Bay Ridge, Bishop Kearney, Booze, Friends, Wild Irish Rose, Xaverian High School

Sunday morning.

January 25, 1978

The noise outside my apartment is driving me crazy.

My head is pounding.

Feels like someone is whacking me with a fuckin’ hammer.

BOOM, BOOM BOOM!

I hate headaches. There’s nothing worse.

I want to sleep-in but the cars, trucks, and busses on ninth avenue make it impossible. My bedroom faces the avenue. About ten minutes ago there was a guy downstairs on the pay phone screaming at someone on the end.

SHUT THE FUCK UP ASSHOLE!

I place my pillow over my head.

Fuck it, that doesn’t work too well. I get out of bed.

No one is home. The apartment is empty.

Is the fuckin’ heat even on?

Jesus Christ it’s like twenty below in here. Landlord tends to shut the heat off. But I’ll tell you about that shit another time.

My sister slept at her friends house last night. She does that a lot.

My brother hasn’t been home since Friday.

Mom? She’s probably still working her after-hours job out in Bay Ridge. On Sunday’s she usually gets home close to noon.

What about my father?

You kidding?

That fuck left about ten years ago.

Feeling like shit, I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge. The kitchen window is covered with frost. I’m starving like Marvin.

The light is out in the fridge. Nothing looks good. It’s actually empty. No milk, means no cereal. Frosted Flakes is my favorite. The box sits atop the fridge. I look at it.

“FUCK!”

I get dressed and walk downstairs. Heading across the avenue to get a buttered roll and coffee at the deli.

Can’t beat that combo for a buck.

Starting to snow and my head is killing me.

I got so drunk last night. You should have seen me.

Worst part of drinking is the following morning.

I get my roll and coffee and head over to Rae’s for the Daily News.

Did I tell you I like my coffee light and sweet?

I tuck the bulky newspaper under my arm and go back home.

Passing people on their way to church. I see some kids with their moms and dads. I could care less. I stopped going to church last year when I graduated from Holy Name. Who needs it.

But the families walking together sure look cute.

After church they’ll walk over to the Parkhouse for breakfast. Or they’ll wait in line at L&J bakery to get donuts.

Sitting at the kitchen table, I scan the sports section. I sip my coffee. It warms me up.

Knicks lost.

Rangers won.

Mets made a trade.

My brother is a Steelers fan, they beat the Cowboys last week in the Super Bowl, 35-31.

I feel like going back to bed but the java has me amped up. Ever since I started drinking coffee I seem to have much more energy.

Keep in mind I am 15.

Yeah, yeah, I can’t hear you know; 15 and you’re drinking coffee? Yep, I also drink alcohol. What else you wanna know?

Sunday mornings suck. Can’t go to the yard to play ball. Last mass ends at one. The priests hate it when I am in there. I get thrown out often. Come on Father Shine, I’m just working on my jump-shot.

“GET OUTTA THE SCHOOLYARD!”

Wish I could remember what happened last night. Details are cloudy.

All I recall is hanging out in Prospect Park drinking. There were so many people. All my friends and some kids I didn’t recognize. We get kids from other neighborhoods who come around to hang with us on Saturday nights.

Kids from Xaverian, OLPH, Kearney and some come as far away as Grady.

I once had the chance to rap to this pretty girl who plays for Kearney. She was real cool. Told me she plays center for their varsity. Her height was amazing. She was like five-ten.

She had short hair and a beautiful smile.

I started with a few cans of beer at about six, then by eight I switched up to Wild Irish Rose.

By nine I was wasted.

Ninty-nine cents a bottle for the wine. Even I can afford that. I think I had four bottles. Maybe five?

My girlfriend and I spent a little time together last night. But I wish I could tell you more.

Not sure why I drink to tell you the truth. But I enjoy it. I feel so good when I have a few drinks. Throwing up sucks. It gets messy.

After reading the newspaper I walk out of the apartment and head over to the park.

I pass Farrell’s and it’s empty. They don’t open until twelve. Looking through the front window, there’s a guy behind the bar wiping off the bottles of booze. Can’t wait until I turn eighteen. Hooley can finally serve me.

Turning the corner at the circle, I see a few of my friends sitting on the bench.

All of a sudden, I feel better.

These guys are all I care about.

Love being with them. The girls too. We have a ton of girls who hang with us. It’s really a great group.

We’re all from the neighborhood.

Went to Holy Name together. Some went to 107’s and P.S. 10’s. Even have a couple of friends who went to Saint Saviour’s.

I can tell my friends anything. Well, almost anything.

“Yo fella’s what’s up?”

-Red

Hoops135@hotmail.com

 

 

WHERE THE HAPPY PEOPLE GO

31 Tuesday Dec 2013

Posted by Steve in Ballard's Pharmacy, Blog, Booze, Farrell's, Prospect Park

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Booze, Daily News, Farrell's, New Year's Eve, Prospect Park, Times Square, Vodka

While this blog entry is inspired by real people, places and an actual event, names have been changed to protect the innocent. 

It’s New Year’s Eve night.

IN THE BASEMENT

I was putting on my coat and gloves in the living room of our five-room, railroad apartment thinking of how I was going to ask mom for some money.  Later tonight we have it all planned out though; hit the liquor store on 16th street for some booze and despite the temperature being in the low teens, we would head over to Prospect Park, get drunk then hop on the train to Times Square and watch the ball drop.  I had been over to the city plenty of times but never on New Year’s Eve. In the past we watched the ball drop on TV. On this night it was about the bottle. Pretty soon, every night would be all about the bottle.

First I needed some dough.

“Can I have ten dollars?” I asked mom as she was sitting on the couch watching TV.

“For what?”

“Me and my friends are hangin’ out.”

Mom looked at me with a puzzled look on her face.

“Hanging out?”

I was beginning to get annoyed.

“Yeah, hanging out,” I answered. I hate when she answers my questions with a question.

“I don’t have any money,” she barked.

Frustrated, I zipped up my coat and stormed out of the apartment.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST SAY THAT!” I screamed to her as I walked down the stairs, out into the cold night.

Mom would turn me down all the time.  I was getting sick and tired of having empty pockets.  I needed a job but I hated to work.  Plus I was tired of hearing her say, “Get a job.” I tried delivering the Daily News once but I had to wake up too early for that. My cousin had a paper route and boy did that suck, and I was just helping him.

I walked across the street and stood outside Ballard’s Pharmacy waiting for my friends to show up.  After dinner this was our meeting place.  When everyone arrived, we marched along ninth avenue to Prospect Park.

I hopped up on the blue mailbox that was planted on the sidewalk on the corner and watch Jason close the iron gate of the store. I notice he has a brown paper bag tucked under his arm. I’m sure it is filled with money. Probably all the cash they made from the whole day. Ballard’s was always packed.

Jason placed the bag down on the sidewalk as he reached up and pulled the gate down.

I thought of running by and scooping up the bag and sprinting down Windsor Place, I’d then have money and be able to buy some booze. Nah, I couldn’t do that, Jason knows me and knows I live across the street. They would put me in Spofford  up in the Bronx and I’d be fucked.

Looking down Windsor Place towards 8th avenue I see Missy, Naomi and Kennedy walking up the street coming my way. As they approach, I see Naomi chewing bubble gum.

“What’s up?” I yelled.

Missy and Kennedy say hi but not Naomi.

Pretty soon more and more of my friends begin to show up.  Our group, which is close to twenty strong begin to walk along ninth avenue towards Prospect Park.

We’re an army of teens about to hang out all night.  We don’t care what people say. We make our own rules.  As we pass Farrell’s, I look through the huge window in front and see a tall man holding a container.

In our neighborhood, it’s a two-step process; start out drinking on the street as a teenager, soon as you become legal, you step inside Farrell’s, walk up to the bar and order a drink.

“We goin’ over to the city or what?” Willie asks while we pass the pizzeria.

Everyone has mixed reactions. Some want to stay in the neighborhood, some want to go over to Times Square.

“Fuck yeah!” I scream out.

I’m hoping Naomi wants to go over to the city. It was just last night that we had a big fight over the phone and I broke up with her. We’ve been boyfriend and girlfriend for a few months. We’re always getting into fights.

A few of my friends start heading to the Bodega and liquor store. A cop car pulls up in front of the park and the cop in the passenger’s seat tells us to move inside the park.

No one says anything back, we do as we’re told. We’re wise-ass kids but when a cop tells us something, we listen.

About an hour later, everyone’s hanging out having a good time.

“Yo Willie, let’s go to the city,” I cried.

Willie is involved in a conversation with his girlfriend Gabby, I think they are dating.

“Yeah sure, it’s only nine, we have plenty of time,” he declared.

I walk away from him and sit on the bench.

Looking around I see groups of three and four of my friends standing in isolated circles talking and drinking. Everyone has a beer can or plastic cup in their hand. I’m sitting on the bench and haven’t tasted a drop of booze all night. How can I, I was broke.

I glance over and see Naomi talking with some kid who I don’t recognize. I get a bit jealous. Matter of fact, I always get jealous when she talks to other boys.

Getting up from the bench I leave the park and head home. I walk upstairs and no one is home. Earlier in the day I had heard mom on the phone talking about a big party down at Timboo’s.

I figured now’s my chance. I head straight for the liquor cabinet.  Mom always has a few bottles of booze in there so I grab the bottle of vodka. I also see Gin, Johnny Walker, some Jack Daniels and a bottle of wine.  Grabbing the vodka I look  at it and notice it’s half full. I stuff it inside my coat and head back to the park. No way Mom is going to miss this.  There’s beer in the fridge but I don’t like the taste. Walking along ninth avenue I have my hands in my pocket holding onto the bottle so it doesn’t slip out.

I get to the park and pull out the bottle and start sipping.  It tastes awful. Looking over at the bench I see a carton of Tropicana orange juice and a few empty cups. I play bartender and mix myself a screwdriver.  Down at Timboo’s I had seen the bartender mix this drink for my father.

Now I feel part of the group. I hear Naomi’s laugh above everyone’s talking, but the booze has some people yelling now instead of talking.  She’s standing alone with the same kid.  They are having a good time; more jealousy creeps in.

“Yo Red, Happy New Year,” Sammy screams out to me as he raises his can of beer and we toast.

I tap his can and drink up.  As I sip from my cup I glance over at Naomi and her new friend. Not sure how much longer I can take this.

Respectfully,

Red

Hoops135@hotmail.com

COME TUMBLING DOWN

26 Saturday Oct 2013

Posted by Steve in Basketball, Blog, Brooklyn, Container Diaries, Holy Name

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

1970, 1980, Booze, Brooklyn, Container Diaries, Egg Cream, Manhattan Beach, New York City, Police

What’s going on?

People are going bananas!

Who’s to blame?  Because that’s what we do, right? We look to place blame.

The Police?

Politicians?

School Teachers?

The Coach?

Parents?

Or, the entitled kids?

I don’t ever recall society being out of control like this.

Everywhere I turn something crazy is happening

IMG_1857

We have a lot of smart people who read Container Diaries. Some leave comments, some e-mail and some, well they read an entry and sit it out.  They clear things up for me. Give me hope.

As a teen I recall being afraid of the police, now people want to fight them, scream at them, spit at them and of course, bring a lawsuit down against them.  Doesn’t anyone respect authority anymore?

I miss the days of waking up in the morning and going to the schoolyard to play ball day. You went home for lunch, grabbed a bite to eat and went right back to your friends.  At supper time you went home, ate and returned to the yard.

I miss the days of hanging out on ninth avenue shooting the breeze with my friends. We could be on any street corner having a good time. Talking girls, sports or how we were getting liquored up on the weekend.

We rode the subway back and forth to stay warm when it was too cold outside.

I miss the days of walking into Rae and Otto’s and ordering an egg cream at the counter. Or picking up Street and Smith’s, Basketball Digest and always trying to sneak a peek at Playboy. Otto always caught me.

“Come on Sonny, don’t look at that…”

On a summer night climbing the fire escape out back to hang out up on the roof which gave us a gorgeous view of the Twin Towers. During the day I’d take a blanket, radio and baby oil and try to get a tan from the sun on the roof but with my Irish-white pasty skin, all I ever got was red as a lobster. Burnt to the crisp.

“Ma, where’s the Noxzema?”

I miss the days of, when I was of legal age, ordering a container from Farrell’s and drinking it outside while we leaned up against a parked car on 16th street or Prospect Park West. Before I was legal, I loved hanging out in Farrell’s and chatting with the bartenders about the Knicks.

Who can ever forget the legendary basketball games in the boys schoolyard during the Summer League? The players, fans, refs and of course listening to the stories afterwards.

Speaking of basketball, I miss playing for Holy Name in CYO. Traveling to different neighborhoods by bus, train or car to play other catholic schools. We never had a gym to call our own so we were always the travel team.  There was a season or two where we rented P.S. 10’s gym down on 7th avenue and Prospect Avenue.

I miss the days of hanging out on the Parkside, inside the park or sitting on the totem poles. The bleachers over by the diamonds was a favorite spot.

Snowball fights, Trick or Treating, getting drunk on New Year’s Eve and of course the food at Thanksgiving.

I miss the friends I grew up with from the 70’s and 80’s. We communicated, we didn’t text message each other.

Sleigh-riding down cherry hill, suicide and three devils. Throwing snowballs at anything and anyone who moved.

Playing baseball in the lot without our parents shouting from the stands or choosing up the teams for us or driving us from our doorstep to 16th street.

Whiffle ball on the streets.  Along with two hand touch, slap ball and kick the can.

“Buck-Buck how many fingers are up?”

Hopping on my bike and cruising down Ocean Parkway to Manhattan Beach to play basketball all day.  Afterwards walking on the boardwalk to check out the sights.

I miss walking or taking the bus down to fifth avenue to grab some donuts, buying a board game at Sepe’s or hanging out in Timboo’s.

And why did I spend so much time taking two busses to Kings Plaza shopping mall when I could have hopped aboard the F-train and went over to the city to shop? When I discovered the city in my late teens and early twenties we spent so much time going to clubs, hanging out in the village and chillin’ by Columbus Circle. East side, West side, Mid-Town, uptown, we covered lots of ground.

Thanks to my boy Turk for introducing me to Delancey Street. Especially Katz’s.

Mostly, I miss the days of being a teenager. I miss the nights of hanging out with my steady girlfriend, Maureen.  Holding hands, kissing and laughing together.  Somewhere around nine or ten at night, I’d walk her home, kiss her good-night and then spend another hour on the phone with her.

Boy how I miss those days…

Respectfully,

Red

Hoops135@hotmail.com

DO THE HUSTLE

29 Friday Aug 2008

Posted by Steve in Blog

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Booze, Drugs, Scam, Scam Artists, The Avenue, The Hustle, Thieves, Van McCoy

No, no, no! Not the song (by Van McCoy) or even the dance we tried to master – I’m talking about the scam artists who try and sell you a bag of bullshit!

You know, the thieves, the talkers, the con guys (and gals).

Sure enough, we had a few on the avenue over the years (Hey Joe, don’t mention no names!)

I’m not here today to bury anyone or throw anyone under the bus, we all know who the scumbags were.  The guys you couldn’t trust.

I’m sure they had some kind of internal problem; drugs, booze, screwed up life at home…etc.

Hopefully a lot of guys we grew up with turned their lives around for the better.

Well you say “Steve, where you going with this?”

This morning, I opened my e-mail and this is what I found:

Hello,
I hope my email find you well. I am in need of your assistance. My
Name is Sgt. James Clayton. I am an American soldier serving in the
Military of the 1st Armored Division in Iraq, we have just been posted
Out of Iraq and to return in a short while. My colleague and I need
Your help to transfer out the sum of Twenty Five Million U.S Dollars
(US25.0M).
The money which is now in the custody of a Security Company is part of the
Money which was discovered in various currencies and also concealed in
Barrels with piles of weapons and ammunition at a location near one of
Saddam Hussein\\\\\\\'s old Presidential Palaces during a search operation and
Was not declared. 

Right now I am in the Baghdad trying to sort out things
With the Security Company to ensure a smooth and unhindered transfer of
The money to you, this is no stolen money and there are no dangers
Involved, therefore be assured that the transfer is safe and risk free, we
Are doing this because no compensation can make up for the risks we have
Taken with our lives in this hell hole

My colleague and I need a good partner someone we can trust to actualize
This venture, but we are moving it through diplomatic means to your house
Directly or a safe and secured location of your choice using a shipping
Company as far as we can be assured that it will be safe in your care
Until we complete our service here, but can we trust you? Once the funds
Get to you, you take your 40% out and keep our own 60%. Your own part of
This deal is to find a safe place where the funds can be sent to. Our own
Part is sending it to you.

If you are interested I will furnish you with more details,
Awaiting your urgent response

Sgt.Joey Jones.
In God We Trust!!!!

Subscribe

  • Entries (RSS)
  • Comments (RSS)

Archives

  • January 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • June 2014
  • May 2014
  • April 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • September 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • May 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • November 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012
  • August 2012
  • July 2012
  • June 2012
  • May 2012
  • April 2012
  • March 2012
  • February 2012
  • January 2012
  • December 2011
  • November 2011
  • October 2011
  • September 2011
  • August 2011
  • July 2011
  • June 2011
  • May 2011
  • April 2011
  • March 2011
  • February 2011
  • January 2011
  • December 2010
  • November 2010
  • October 2010
  • September 2010
  • August 2010
  • July 2010
  • June 2010
  • May 2010
  • April 2010
  • March 2010
  • February 2010
  • January 2010
  • December 2009
  • November 2009
  • October 2009
  • September 2009
  • August 2009
  • July 2009
  • June 2009
  • May 2009
  • April 2009
  • March 2009
  • February 2009
  • January 2009
  • December 2008
  • November 2008
  • October 2008
  • September 2008
  • August 2008
  • July 2008
  • June 2008
  • May 2008
  • April 2008
  • March 2008
  • February 2008
  • January 2008
  • December 2007

Categories

  • #TBT
  • 10th Avenue
  • 13th Street
  • 16th street
  • 17th street
  • 1959
  • 1964
  • 1970
  • 1972
  • 1977
  • 1978
  • 19th Street
  • 2001 Unisex Hair Cutting
  • 228 A Prospect Park West
  • 4th Avenue
  • 4th of July
  • 5th avenue
  • 68 Bus
  • 8th avenue
  • 9-11
  • A Drinking Life
  • Abby Wambach
  • Advice
  • Affordable
  • Al Martin
  • Al McNeil
  • Al Pacino
  • Al Powers
  • Albums
  • Alex Rodriguez
  • All-Around Athlete
  • American Flag
  • Angela's Ashes
  • Angry Men
  • Annabel Flynn
  • Antoinette Cicala
  • Associated
  • Athletes
  • Aunt Eleanor
  • Babe Ruth
  • Bachman's
  • Ballard's Pharmacy
  • Barbecue
  • Barclays Arena
  • Barry Rohrssen
  • Bartel Pritchard Square
  • Bartender
  • Baseball
  • Basketball
  • Basketball Old Timers Of America
  • Bay Ridge
  • Beans
  • Beer
  • Ben's Pizza
  • Bensonhurst
  • Bernard King
  • Bill Cwikowski
  • Bill Mazer
  • Bill Parcells
  • Billy Lang
  • Billy Lang Jr.
  • Billy Mudge
  • Birthday
  • Bishop Ford
  • Bishop Ford High School
  • Blog
  • Bob Terry
  • Bob Trapp
  • Bob's hardware store
  • Bobby Burke
  • Bobby Corbett
  • Bobby Hickey
  • Bobby Leaver
  • Bobby Powers
  • Bobby Valentine
  • Bologna
  • Bonalli's
  • Book cover
  • Book Report
  • BookShelf
  • Booze
  • Bowling for Dollars
  • Boys Schoolyard
  • Brian Corrigan
  • Brian Keating
  • Brian Lang
  • Brighton Beach
  • Broadway Bomb
  • Brooklyn
  • Brooklyn Bike Patrol
  • Brooklyn Bridge
  • Brooklyn Gang
  • Brooklyn Nets
  • Brooklyn Settler
  • Brother Joe Mussa
  • Brown Bag
  • Brownstone Dreams
  • Bruce Davidson
  • Bruce Springsteen
  • Buck Showalter
  • Bully
  • C.Y.O.
  • Camp
  • Cannonball
  • Carol Corbett
  • Catherine Cush
  • Catherine Gigante-Brown
  • Cathy Gigante-Brown
  • CC Sabathia
  • Central Michigan University
  • Charlie Alberti
  • Charlie Cummings
  • Charlie Watts
  • Chase Utley
  • Cherry Hill
  • Chicago
  • Children
  • Choices
  • Chris Logan
  • Chris Mascaro
  • Chris Mullin
  • CHSAA
  • Chuck Taylor
  • Church
  • Church Avenue
  • Citadel
  • Clayton Patterson
  • Cleon Jones
  • Clown
  • Coach
  • Coffee
  • Colin Mixson
  • Colin Quinn
  • Colitas
  • Coloring Book
  • Complaining
  • Coney Island
  • Coney Island Avenue
  • Confession
  • Container Diaries
  • Convent
  • Converse
  • Cookie Monster
  • Current Sports
  • Curtis Granderson
  • Dad
  • Daddy Dewdrop
  • Daily News
  • Daniel Murphy
  • Danny Raymond
  • Darryl Wheatley
  • Darth Vader
  • Dave Kingman
  • Debi Mazar
  • Denino's
  • Denis Hamill
  • Depression
  • Derek Jeter
  • Devil Dogs
  • Dice
  • Dick Bavetta
  • Don Kent
  • Doreen Kawas
  • Double Windsor
  • Double-Parking
  • Dougie O'Connor
  • Dr. Fauci
  • Dragnet
  • Drive with Jack
  • Driveway
  • Duncan Blair
  • Dunkin' Donuts
  • Earl Monroe
  • East 5th Street
  • Easter
  • Eddie Cush
  • Eddie Gilligan
  • Edgar De La Rosa
  • Edgar DeLaRosa
  • Edward Heegan
  • Egg Cream
  • Eleanor Roosevelt
  • Elmore Leonard
  • Erin Moran
  • ESPN
  • Esquire Magazine
  • F-Train
  • Farrell's
  • Farrell's Bar
  • Farrell's Bar & Grill
  • Farrell's Football
  • Father
  • Father Patrick Burns
  • Father's Day
  • FDNY
  • Fence
  • Fight
  • Final Four
  • Fire Escape
  • Fire Hydrant
  • First Street
  • Fish Cakes
  • Fishcakes
  • Five Balls of Life
  • Flo Leopoldi
  • Florida Shooting
  • Football
  • Frank Cullen
  • Frank McCourt
  • Friends
  • Fuller Place
  • G Train
  • Gambling
  • Garbage Cans
  • Gargiulo's
  • George Brett
  • Gerard Trapp
  • Gil Hodges
  • Girls Entrance
  • Gladys Mastrion
  • Glenn Thomas
  • Gloria Haak
  • Gourmet Butcher
  • Great Irish Fair
  • Green Wood Cemetery
  • Green-Wood Cemetery
  • Greenwood Lake
  • Grit
  • Guns
  • Halloween
  • Hang out
  • Happy New Year
  • Happy Thanksgiving
  • Harry Mills
  • Henry's Deli
  • Hippie Hill
  • Hockey
  • Holy Communion
  • Holy Name
  • Holy Name Church
  • Holy Name Foundation
  • Holy Name of Jesus
  • Holy Name of Jesus Church
  • Honor Molloy
  • Hooley
  • Horace Court
  • Howard Place
  • Howie Bischoff
  • IHM
  • Ironworker
  • Ironworkers
  • Irving Buitrago
  • J.R. Moehringer
  • Jack Kelly
  • Jack O'Connell
  • Jack Ryan
  • Jacob deGrom
  • James "Jocko" Noftell
  • James Cacaci
  • James Corden
  • Jay Cusato
  • Jay Ruiz
  • JHS 51
  • Jim Fields
  • Jim Routhier
  • Jim Valvano
  • Jimmy Breslin
  • Jimmy Butler
  • Jimmy Houlihan
  • Jimmy Peterson
  • Jimmy Rail
  • Jimmy Riches
  • Jimmy Routhier
  • Jimmy Wares
  • Jimmy's Candy Store
  • JJ Cortese
  • Jo-Jo White
  • Joe DiMaggio
  • Joe Farrell
  • Joe Lee
  • Joe Leopoldi's Hardware Store
  • Joe Mussa
  • Joe Santos
  • Joe Torre
  • Joe's Pizzeria
  • Joey Bag of Donuts
  • Joey Corrar
  • John Cain
  • John Corbett
  • John Corrar
  • John Devaney
  • John Gray
  • John Jay
  • John Rafferty
  • John Rowland
  • John Thomas
  • John Wickham
  • Johnny Mack's
  • Johnny Pump
  • Jon Lester
  • July 1
  • Kansas City Royals
  • Katz's
  • Kelly's Tavern
  • Kenny Murray
  • Kerry McKeon
  • Kevin McPartland
  • Kevin Molloy
  • Kevin R. McPartland
  • Key Food
  • Kings Plaza
  • Kristaps Porzingis
  • L&J Bakery
  • Lafayette High School
  • Larry King
  • Larry Racioppo
  • Latte
  • Laundry
  • Lee Mazzilli
  • Lenny Melfi
  • Lenny's Pizza
  • Leonard Gidlund
  • Leslie Albrecht
  • Limelight
  • Linda Lavin
  • Local 361
  • Local 40
  • Loser
  • Lou Gehrig
  • Lou Gehrig's Disease
  • Louisville Slugger
  • Lower East Side
  • Mallory Hagan
  • Manhattan
  • Manhattan Beach
  • Maria
  • Marist College
  • Marty Fox
  • Mary Kawas
  • Matt Damon
  • Matt Harvey
  • Matt Long
  • Matthew Lang
  • Max Scherzer
  • Mayor De Blassio
  • McBears
  • Meatball Sandwich
  • Merry Christmas
  • Mets
  • Michael Buffer
  • Michael Bundrick
  • Michael Greco
  • Michael Larkin
  • Michael Woodworth
  • Micheal Ray Richardson
  • Michele Moran
  • Mickey Breen
  • Mickey Mantle
  • Mickey Reilly
  • Midnight Mass
  • Mike Larkin
  • Mike Shepherd
  • Mindfulness
  • Miss Monzillo
  • Mother's Day
  • Motivation
  • Mountain Bike
  • Mr. Mussa
  • Mrs. Rafferty
  • Music
  • My Bad
  • Neighborhood
  • Neighborhood Reunion
  • New Jersey Nets
  • New Utrecht High School
  • New Year's Eve
  • New York
  • New York Basketball
  • New York City
  • New York Jets
  • New York Knicks
  • New York Mets
  • New York Rangers
  • New York Story
  • New York Times
  • New York Yankees
  • New Yorker Magazine
  • Newspaper
  • NFL
  • Nicholas D'Elia
  • Nick Sisto
  • Ninth Avenue
  • NLDS
  • Officer Doyle
  • OLA
  • Oscar Robertson
  • OTB
  • P.S. 154
  • Pack 237
  • Park Bench
  • Park Slope
  • Parkside
  • Pat Conroy
  • Pat Fenton
  • Patrick Heaney
  • Patty Byrnes
  • Paul McCartney
  • Paved Paradise
  • Pavilion
  • Pete Hamill
  • Pete Iulo
  • Phil Jackson
  • Phil McNiff
  • Picnic
  • Picnic Table
  • Pierre's
  • Piraguas
  • Pizza
  • Play the Right Way
  • Port Authority
  • Potatoes and Eggs
  • Power Memorial
  • Priest
  • Pro-Keds
  • Prom
  • Prospect Avenue
  • Prospect Expressway
  • Prospect Park
  • Prospect Park Southwest
  • Prospect Park West
  • Puff Basketball
  • Pynn's Deli
  • Queens
  • R-Train
  • Rae and Otto
  • Rae and Otto's
  • Rain
  • Randy Pausch
  • Ray Collura
  • Ray Corbett
  • Red Holzman
  • Red Slavin
  • Regina Bakery
  • Rejects
  • Rev. Monsignor Joseph Nagle
  • Rice Pudding
  • Richie Ferraiolo
  • Ricky Ferro
  • Ring Dings
  • Robbery
  • Robert Moses
  • Robert Vitale
  • Robin Leslie Brown
  • Robin Williams
  • Rock
  • Roger Chebba
  • Rolling Stones
  • Ron Artest
  • Roof
  • Rose Lang
  • Ruben Tejada
  • Ryne Sandberg
  • Sam's Deli
  • Sanders
  • Sandy Koufax
  • Santander Bank
  • School
  • Schoolyard
  • Sean Keating
  • Second Avenue
  • Seeley Street
  • Seventh Avenue
  • Sex
  • Sexton Big Reds
  • Sherman Street
  • Shirley MacLaine
  • Shootings
  • Shovel
  • Sidecar
  • Simon & Garfunkel
  • Sirico's
  • Sister Barbara
  • Skateboard
  • Sly and the Family Stone
  • Smiling Pizza
  • Sneakers
  • Snow
  • Spanking
  • Spider Man
  • Spike Lee
  • Sport Prospect
  • Sports Talk Radio
  • Spumoni Gardens
  • St. Finbar's
  • St. Francis College
  • St. Francis Prep
  • Stabbing
  • Starbucks
  • Stephen Whelan
  • Steve Finamore
  • Steve Gilbert
  • Steve Jobs
  • Stick Up
  • Stickball
  • Stoop
  • Stoopdreamer
  • Suicide
  • Summer League
  • Super Bowl
  • Supper
  • Susan Rail
  • T-shirts
  • Tavern
  • Teacher
  • Teen
  • Teena Caccamo
  • Terrace Bagels
  • Terrace Place
  • Terry Collins
  • The Circle
  • The Conroy Family
  • The Deerr Family
  • The EL
  • The Jokers
  • The Kinks
  • The Late, Late, Show
  • The Lot
  • Theodore Staniszewski
  • Thomas Larkin
  • Thomas Ryan
  • Tim Lee
  • Timboo's
  • Times Square
  • Timmy Leary
  • Tired
  • Tom Izzo
  • Tommy Brick
  • Tommy Mills
  • Tug McGraw
  • TV
  • Twin Towers
  • Ty Cobbs
  • Vincent Brunton
  • Vincent E. Brunton
  • Voit Basketball
  • Waldbaum's Fire
  • Walgreens
  • Wayne Dyer
  • Webelos
  • West Side Story
  • Whiffle Ball
  • White Irish Drinkers
  • Wi-fi
  • Wife
  • Wiffle Ball
  • Wild Irish Rose
  • Wilhelm Busch
  • William O'Connor
  • Willie Howard
  • Willy Wickham
  • Windsor Cafe
  • Windsor Place
  • Windsor Terrace
  • Winner
  • WKAR
  • World Series
  • World Trade Center
  • WWF
  • Xaverian
  • Ya Gotta Believe
  • Yankee Doodles
  • Yankees
  • YBA
  • YMCA
  • Yodels
  • Yogi Berra
  • Zaid Abdul-Aziz

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in

Cancel
Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy