Well, after some much-needed time off, I’m ready to get back after it. I have heard from so many wonderful people over the past few weeks via e-mail and reading their comments on the blog. (Love Jerry Cole and his comments about basketball and the schoolyard)
I’ve been hard at work each and every night on my book, I’m hoping to have it complete real soon. I missed interacting with friends on the blog via the comments section. This probably sounds corny but reading and answering comments made me feel like I was in the schoolyard, Prospect Park or outside Farrell’s talking to friends from the neighborhood.
As you all know, the 2nd neighborhood reunion took place Saturday night; I heard nothing but great things about it. I was able to peek at a few photo’s that were shared on Facebook by Karen A., Karen M. and Teesha (which by the way if you don’t have an account on FB, I suggest you get one so you can catch up with a lot of friends; friends you haven’t spoken to in years).
If you grew up in the neighborhood, you were lucky; lucky to have so many great friends. I couldn’t imagine growing up anywhere else! For the past two and a half years I have blogged about the experience of being able to have friends like the ones from Windsor Terrace. To me, I can never forget any of them.
Growing up in the 1970’s and 80’s wasn’t easy. You had your ups and downs (for this writer, there were way more downs) But one thing is for sure, we persevered. There were deviant temptations staring at us but for the most part, we got through. As I sit here and compose this entry, I think about my eleven year old daughter who is sound asleep upstairs in her bedroom. I think back to the nights I’d try to fall asleep in my bedroom which faced 9th avenue. The sounds of cars driving up and down the avenue. Occasional arguments between people coming from Farrell’s was also often heard through my open window. The one amazing thing about growing up in the neighborhood is that I knew so many people. We all did. Everyone knew each other. Sure some people didn’t get along with others. They fought and they argued but when I think back to the people I grew up with, male and female I have to smile. Their spirit, determination, focus, and their tenacity. Most of all their friendship is what set them apart.
I’m proud when I tell people where I’m from. It amazes me that I still have my New York accent even though it’s been 14 years since I last had my mail delivered there. I’ll always have a connection to the neighborhood despite how far away I live; It’s a deep down spirit inside of me. Many folks who still reside there tell me, “Steve, it’s changed.” That may be the case but to me, it’ll always be the same.
This past Saturday night I thought of everyone getting together at Bishop Ford. I wondered what the conversations were like, who was drinking what and what kind of music was being played. I will admit, I was a bit jealous. So jealous that I made a commitment not to miss the next neighborhood reunion and of course to get my ass back in front of this computer screen writing about a great neighborhood.
If anyone has any pictures from the reunion and would like to share them for the blog, please e-mail me.
It’s nice to be back…