Ever since Dick and Jane I do not remember a time when I was not a avid reader. I read everything in print: newspapers, magazines, books, comic books, mailings, ads, signs, cereal boxes, direction inserts, etc. I love words. I once contracted to sell magazines door to door, cold calling and hawking Saturday Evening Post, Lberty, Woman's Home Companion, Colliers. The payoff was not in money but in prizes. My first award for selling three dollars worth of magazines was a balsa wood glider which, on its maiden flight, landed high atop a factory and was never seen again. Not all bad because between sales, and there was a lot of between, I could read those magazines. But from the time I was able to borrow books from a branch library near my house I fell madly in love with books. I became the library's most freqent borrower, two books every two weeks, and never a late return. I had truly catholic taste reading such authors as Jack London,Upton Sinclair John Steinbeck, Zane Grey,James Fenimore Cooper . I enjoyed non fiction too, particularly books on current events and biographies. I was also hooked on series written for young readers, Bomba the Jungle Boy and the Tom Swift adventures. But reading, like writing was a lonely pursuit so in time I put my books aside for a while and ventured out of doors, particularly to the corner of Eighth Avenue and 23rd Street the site of old man Kay's candy store and the gathering place of most of my contemporaries. I slowly acquired the art of hanging out, just hanging out and doing a lot of nothing but shmoozing and absorbing, a little singing, goofing on one another, arguing over baseball, doing imitations of neighborhood characters and creating minor mischief like loud noise that drew the ire of old man Kay who threatened to call the cops which he never did. The corner was also the arena for a bunch of small ball games, played with that old standby, the spaldeen (read Spalding) a pink rubber ball which could then be purchased for a nickel. There was box ball, wall ball, stoop ball, corner ball and of course stick ball. There was no surface exempt from a rendezvous with a spaldeen. And at times we were chased for creating a nuisance. The snack du jour at Kay's cost a dime and consisted of a pretzel log and a Pepsi. Pepsi was newly introduced to compete with Coke on a strategy of more for your money:
Pepsi Cola hits the spot
Twelve full ounces. that's a lot
Twice as much for your money too
Pepsi Cola is the drink for you
Trickle, trickle, trickle
And then back on the street to see who could come up with the loudest burp.
The corner proved popular with adults as well as the guys. From a radius of about five blocks, people came to Kay's candy store. They stopped for an ice cream cone,to buy newspapers and magazines, some even to tilt with the pinball machine or play the numbers.So Kay's became a special salon, a town square serving the enlarged neighborhood where customers could stop for a few minutes after their purchases to chat with the boys, exchange stories, catch up on gossip or watch us play the corner games which were always a hoot. We went at it as if we were in the big leagues and like the big leagues even more fun when fights broke out. The gang was always good for laughs. Frankie Scaz would regale us with stories from the Spotless dry cleaning factory where he had a part time job:
No use standing on the seat,
Spotless crabs jump six feet.
It was kind of amazing to me, but more and more adults began to show up at the corner of 8th Avenue and 23rd Street. A candidate for mayor of Paterson was a regular, as was a doctor, a chief of police, a fireman, a mailman and a bus driver, assorted businessmen, a circle of grownups eager to mix with the guys, exchange anecdotes and have a few laughs. We attracted a membership of regulars and while I was not aware of it at the time I was continuing my education in a way no school or book could deliver. I was working on my degree in street smarts.
Of what benefit to men and women their various degrees from prestigious universities if they do not have street smarts? They are among the truly disadvantaged.
I was once asked to define street smarts. Street smart means never having to be called a "shmuck."
your comments regarding your thoughts about Tirza were very cute. You brought a smile to my face. Tiza is my grandmother!
thanks
Lita
Posted by: Lita Hession | January 28, 2008 at 10:24 PM