I grew up in an era, in the Bronx, when you feared and/or respected your elders. Every woman was Miss,  Ma’am or Mrs. and men; Mr. or Sir. Everyone knew your name or whose kid you were. So, if you were “acting the fool” it wasn’t uncommon to hear, “I’m tellin’ ya mother!”.

If you didn’t have enough money to buy a stickball bat at Korvettes or Alexanders, you’d find an old broomstick in a vacant lot, put one end of it into the small holes of a manhole cover and  make  wide circles with the upper half until it broke off to get a smooth edge.

People would decorate their fireescapes and balconies of their projects with Christmas lights during the season and sometimes kept them up all year long.

On a hot day we’d find an old tin can. You’d scrape it back and forth against the sidewalk then popout the end. After that, scream up to our neighbor -- the one with the illegal hydrant opener -- to comedown stairs to turn on “the pump”. Eventually the cops or fire department  would show up and turn it off.  Five minutes later we’d be screaming up to the same neighbor to come down and do it all over again. Sprinklers were for chumps.

And in case you were wondering, the kid in the photograph is not me.

Tim

Over twenty years of experience designing professional print and collaterals for ads, annuals reports, brochures, and digital media.

Concept. Creation. Completion.