Month: August 2018

Another of my life adventures:
After overcoming a sad ending to a 13 year relationship, I stayed locally in Ridgefield Connecticut because my office was established in it’s downtown area, so when I saw houses were up for sale and I saw the potential to fix them up, and rent them out as a way of a new income.( A new term they use today is…”A fixer-upper”) The first house I bought, I lived alone on the second floor and rented out the first to a charming young woman who was an executive for a national furniture company. The third floor I rented to a young woman who had left her alcoholic husband, and had 2 young children. The problem with her was she had no income and no support from her husband. She had a rich sister who had a home in Ridgefield and it was she who had first rented the apartment for her sister. After a while, the rent stopped being paid, and knowing her circumstances, I allowed her to stay. I had a dog called Quattro who loved the kids and they would play with him in it’s large yard, minding him for me. Eventually her husband showed up sober, and he moved in with her for a few weeks till he went back on a binge and with my help she threw him out. However, she knew she could no longer live there as he would be constantly back bothering her, so her sister packed her up and she left. That wasn’t a good renter, but it was a life experience, especially after my own disappointment with a life partner.
The second house I had bought earlier, and was a true fixer-upper, but it was fun to do in my spare time, when I was not traveling to Hong Kong on business. When finishing up, I decided to paint the outside windows and doors, as they truly needed something. The town had a law that said you could only paint the outside of a home brown and white, but it just wasn’t me, so I went to the town planners and said I wanted to paint it a different color. “NO, NO, NO!” Was there reply so I proceeded to paint the windows and doors, Pepto Bismol pink! Well, the furor was strong and nasty, but I would not give into the town fathers… this was my home and I’ll paint it any color I wanted and did so, then wrote an editorial in the local paper below!
Can’t copy the news Editorial I wrote, But it said how much most people who passed by my pink and brown home loved how it looked and said so by stopping and talking to me!

Remembering the time I was about 8, walking under the grandstands and listening to the great singer Pavarotti!

To begin with, My childhood was one of adventure and belonging, where everyone living on Mulberry St would watch over everyone else. Safety was guaranteed and help was always there around you, so all young children never worried about their surrounding, except when you did something wrong, then 5 people would be there to scold you, threatening to tell your parents. Every year without fail there was the San Gennaro feast with preparations starting 5days before the event would happen. Workers would arrive with ladders and poles and crown shaped frames with multi-colored lights throughout. Using the street light poles as well as poles they set  in between on each side, they then would set up each frame across from one pole to the other side pole with a frame going across the street. They did this starting from Canal St going North up Mulberry St past Saint Patrick’s Old Cathedral onto Houston St. As this was happening, vendors began setting up their tents so that both sides were exposed to sell their wares, and tents were set up on both sides of the street. As all this was happening,we kids would be in the way and very excited to watch and maybe get a treat, but we were chased and told to get lost. The ones that had sweets would give us a treat to do just that “Get lost”.  It was always so exciting and it was actually a better time for us than the actual feist, cause when it started, giant crowds of people would arrive and everyone was happy with their kids amazed at just being there. We locals were now kinda in the background staying pretty much out of the way. The big event was the statue of Saint Gennaro being carried down the center of the street with 6 men on each side carrying it, with two more men standing  on top next to the statue being carried with it and their job was to pin the money bystanders gave to them as they passed by. The robes of the Saint was covered with bills mostly $1.00, but some higher values, Down the street it traveled till it reached the back entrance of St Patrick’s on Mulberry St. where it was placed so people could touch, or kiss the robes and again giving money to the two men now mostly watching over it. Then the music would start as the band played Opera music and major Italian Opera stars sang different Arias. We kids would go under the stage which was very dark and damp, and listen and just had fun watching it all take place. It was great to see all the rich people with their kids in tow and all excited to be there on our street, MULBERRY ST. This would continue well into the night, until the crowd became less and less and then the the feist would end for that night. It always lasted for 4 nights, and then the reverse happened, as all were taken down till next year. Then the city garbage people would arrive and stretch across the street all with their brooms in unison pushing the debree forward. We kids were in front of them looking for change that might have fallen, but with the men crowded tightly  and moving in unison we couldn’t pick it up even if we were able to find any that might still be there! Again it was the fun in the doing rather than the finding. The men were only protecting their interests as when gather it all up, they would find a ton of stuff!

The problem with young boys growing up in the 50’s is how to keep busy, so we always looked for another game to play. However, we never had the money to buy the equipment to play any sport. We would have to “Ad-Lib” what we used. well, we never had to worry about “Kick the can”, or “hide and seek”! But the major sport of baseball was a problem… who was rich enough to have a ball, Or bat? We made due with what we had take a rock roll paper around it till it had the shape, then steal tape from a parent to finish it off…not bad…not perfect but it did the job, then to make it really perfect Joey di would take it to his father shoe repair shop and cover it with glue. Now we had a ball, but what about a bat. We know how to make a broom handle into a stick ball bat, but not good for our baseball.. Well kids will be kids, so we “took” an empty orange crate from Goldfarb’s grocery store and took it apart we used the nails and the boards we got after we removed them from the box the boards were 36″x 4″, 3 on each side. we then laid 2 down and put one the 1.5×1.5 frame pieces at the bottom and nail ther boards to the 1.5 board. we then put the other 2 boards on the other side and nailed it . then each piece was nail into the side of our new bat. It worked… Well at least for a while, but all it took was putting more nails. now we had a ball and bat, so out into the street we’d go and used a center metal sewer as home plate, the sewer down the street as second base. The sewers where the water went down, were first and third. What better baseball field could you ask for.

Hey! what about hockey? well, all it took was a little change. take the orange box and use it frame to make and “L” for the bottom of a hockey stick, use the side boards to make the handle by splitting the 3″ board and nail to the “L”.  Then go to the park and look for a good rock with a flat shape. We were all set, hockey here we come! out goals were just the simple orange crates on it’s side one on either end of our street. We played and played noise galore. One day we were playing against the kids from 204th St and it was important that we win on our street. so, we played hard. One time, I was chasing a 204th’er who was headed for the goal and I wasn’t going to let him score so I jumped in front of the ball and POW his stick hit me under the chin, and with that blood spurt out of my mouth. everybody came and looked… Wow look his tongue, it was cut in half with just a little piece of skin holding it. I tried to put my tongue back in my mouth but the blood was too much and when I opened my mouth, out came my tongue! what to do with no grown ups around. Then I remembered the house that had a goal in front of it, belonged to a doctor. I ran like crazy to the door and banged on it, and out came the doctor(In those days Doctors didn’t have secretaries). He saw the situation and said stay there, I did and he came back with a cloth. he told the other kids to scarm. In I went and was frightened cause he was usually a mean guy who always yelled at us for playing and making too much noise. He put me in a chair and said hold still . I yelled why? He said stick out your toung.. more… more then he took a prong like scissors and proceeded to grab my tongue, saying don’t close your mouth if you want you tongue fixed! He proceeded to take a needle and put through the back of my tongue, ” yeaagh” I screamed but his grip on my tongue was firm and he put the needle into the part of my tongue that was hanging “Yeaagh”. Two more time he did it… no anesthetic… !!! Ok, he said now don’t talk, or eat, or touch it for two days and come here every morning. I did and he became my best friend. Any of the kids say a word against him and they were beaten up by me. A left hander can beat any right hander cause they do everything different and backwards, so the righty loses every time, at least that was for me my whole life. Did you know my name growing up “Lefty”?