I would like to share some stories indeed. It's nice to reminisce the bygone era I so enjoyed growing up in.
Do you remember the block parties growing up? There was a real sense of community then. I grew up around all nationalities and and most got along. Italians, Germans, Orthodox Jews, all lived around me. I remember walking to school and the German woman were out scrubbing their stoops--you could eat off them! Everyday after school, I was allowed to stop at Carl's Delicatessen, where he had a pickle barrel two times bigger than me. Carl always allowed me to pick my own pickle with the tongs on the side. The best pickles I ever ate!!
On Saturday my mother and I would walk to Woodhaven (where her parents lived), we would stop at the Crescent Bakery to pick up a crumb cake (which was more crumb than cake--mm...) to take to my grandparents house to visit for the afternoon. My father drove a gypsy cab on the weekends to make extra money.
This country is now more divided then it ever was. This is what is incredibly sad to me.
Yes I remember block parties. The block captain would organize. They would also hold the sprinkler cap for the johnny pump(fire hydrant).
How about playing Skellzy in the middle of the street? Melting crayons in bottle caps to play with and then trading for colors you liked.
How about stoop-ball, handball with boxes(Ace, King, Queen, Jack), stickball in the U at school?
Yes I have a lot of fond memories. Including taking schools trips to the WTC. And thats where I went to visit today. The 9/11 memorial.
I went to the site a month after the towers fell, with camera in hand. What I saw was unreal to me. To see a giant excavator look dwarfed by the enormous pile of debris it was sitting on. The street we happened to go up had, it was either the Port authority police or the Transit authority police that had lost every member on 9/11. Needless to say the camera never came out of my pocket, tears were streaming down my face and I did the only thing I could do at the time and that was fall to my knees at a police barricade and prayed.
And so today I promised myself I wouldn't cry. I had seen it all already, if not in person at least in pictures and videos on the internet. And I was fine almost to the end. We were in a closed exhibition were you got to a part where they had a fire truck and they were replaying the call out for engines and companies after the 911 calls came in. It seemed as if the dispatcher would never stop calling the company numbers off...Engine 11, Ladder 212, Rescue 32...etc And the guy on the other end trying to write down the numbers just seemed taken back as he was trying to keep up. I lost it. I found myself again with tears streaming down my face. There's low lighting in the exhibition and they expect you to cry as there are tissues boxes every where.
And there was the official lie being represented there but alsosome hint of truth. My wife gestured me over to look at something, before I got to her I knew what it was. I said, is that a White Pages? Yes, with the terrorists name listed in it, yes...and they said they could find them or they didn't know where they were yet they're listed in the phone book...YES.
They also make sure they show the Cantor Fitzgerald impact in the North Tower, with pieces of beam and exhibition at both the South and North Tower excavation sites and yet they never mention the woman who is standing in the opening caused by the plane. I wondered why?http://911research.wtc7.net/wtc/evidence/photos/wtc1hole1.html