I find watching spring rain to be soothing, mood enhancing and something in which I can lose myself. Last June, however, the total amount of rain that fell was 10.06 inches, more than twice the average for the month. The constant rain took an emotional toll on people, which a New York Times article referred to as “rain rage.” However, for much of the month I saw the rain as something that created theater in non-theatrical settings.
We are now in the vacation season.
Somehow, not everything goes smoothly and free from trouble when we are on holiday. This story, that I will unfold, happened in the Scottish Highlands.
At the crossroads of the two major avenues of the East Bronx was a magical, idyllic spot known as Pop’s Pool Room. It was the place where I spent most of my spare time between the ages of 16 and 24, subtracting the two years that Pop banned me from his establishment.
Nassau schools have a right to be proud. Teachers receive good wages, the schools are relatively free of crime, and the amount of equipment, supplies and resources rival even that of many colleges. But many people feel that to support these schools, the high-cost of administration needs to be taken into account, and possibly adjusted downwards. In these times of belt-tightening and real estate decline, it’s a wonder that the school budgets get higher every year. Just recently, the school budget increases in Syosset and Oyster-Bay school districts, and most others on Long Island, were approved.
It was a beautiful sunny day in Seoul, Korea.
My father was born in Eastern Poland. He and his three brothers, Sheldon, Sol and Murray were all better than average soccer players. My father would drag my mother and me all over Brooklyn, the Bronx and Manhattan to watch soccer games. Through all those years my mother never understood or appreciated the game.
I have never thought of myself as a particularly brave person; however, each day I take upon myself a truly terrifying task. People have been killed, maimed, or scarred for life doing this thing that I have chosen to do, and knowing this, I must somehow find the courage to continue on. I wish I could now segue into my dazzling adventures as a mountain climber or Bengal tiger trainer, or something with equal glamour, but unfortunately that’s not where this is going; I’m talking about driving on Jericho Turnpike.
I have never been much of a card player. Somehow, myself and three other gentlemen formed a Monday night gin rummy game. It has been classified as a Damon Runyonesque experience because the players are alumni from the streets of the Bronx and Brooklyn circa 1940s, ’50s and ’60s.
It was Halloween. The year was 1953.
I was studying calculus in my apartment in the East Bronx on the high ground floor. It was above Sid’s Candy Store. Sid’s was a noisy neighborhood hangout for the unemployed and the indigent.
Page 31 of 42<< Start < Prev 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 Next > End >>