Looking Back

I don't usually wax poetic about times past. I firmly believe that these are " the Good Old Days", and wouldn't trade the present for the past for love nor money.

BUT, having said that, a friend and I were discussing our childhood neighborhoods, where we grew up, and he said that he was feeling a bit nostalgic. This brought my childhood to the fore and I have to admit, it was pretty idyllic.

I grew up in Queens NY, when there were still small town place names used. My area was called "Blissville" (LOL), next was "Sunnyside", then "Woodside" and after that it was "Undiscovered Country". . A 50/50 mix of factories and residential. My block, 37 St., was nicest, IMO ( well of course it was, I lived there).

 I lived on a totally residential street that continued for exactly 1 block ( around the corner, and way up that street, was a fat rendering place, Van Eiderstine's. In the summer, especially when it was very hot, the smell was intense if the wind happened to change.) Across the street was Calvary Cemetery with a 10 foot stone wall to the cemetery above. The cemetery provided a nice source of income for both me and my "cousin" Joseph.We'd take my "Flexible Flyer" little red wagon and some buckets and climb the wall. THEN, collect beer and soda bottles from the workers in the cemetery and factories that surrounded it.  If we saw a little old lady at a grave taking care of flowers, we'd offer to get water and help out ( for a tip of course). The bottles we collected were taken home, washed, and brought to "Pan's" grocery. (Pan is Mr. or Sir in Polish, and we never ever knew the guy's real name. Even if we did, we would not dare to use it) Then we'd get pretzels, chips, and soda from the cooler. A good time was had by all. 

From street level, since you could not see the gravestones, it was very park like and very countrified. Sidewalk on our side, across the street, adjoining the stone wall,  a dirt walk where everyone had a flower garden across from their house. My Grand Dad was a shrewd man, came to the US in '95 and ducated himself by reading the Daily News, became foreman of one of the neighborhood factories. Played golf with his boss, went to the Burl-e-Q with them and so on. We had a 6 family house filled with "needy" relatives. Someone would emigrate from the Old Country and need a place to stay, and we had that. Grand parents adopted kids orphaned, or whose parents couldn't afford to keep them. I have a ton of aunts and uncles and cousins who weren't "really" my relatives, but were just accepted into the family.

Gramps also bought a house and land out on Long Island, in Holbrook NY and I went there in the summers. Four miles , by bike, to Lake Ronkonkoma and my cousins and I did it almost every day. Gramps had some acres devoted to farming, and he bought me my first rifle, a single shot .22 to keep crows and other pests away from the corn and other vegetables. I was paid a Quarter daily ( when $0.25 was real money )  for keeping watch. Mom told him to take away the rifle, and he did, but told me where he hid it and said " Don't tell your Mom".

Good times.

Almost Two Years

Today is January 28, 2013 and it will be two years since I moved from New York City to Zacatecas, Mexico on March 6. 

I have definitely gone through some changes: new city, country, wife ( +Marti Freedman  !!!) a dog named Jake, and I had my left leg amputated just above the knee. Even though I'm leading a disgustingly health lifestyle ( diet consisting of chicken, fish fish and chicken) and get plenty of exercise, walking about 3 to 4 miles per day. 

The problem is my inherited genetic traits: Grandfather, aunt, Mother, Sister, Cousin with either Diabetes , Poor Circulation, due to hardening of arteries, or both. Then my Dad, who died in 1971, had a heart attack or stroke behind the wheel of his car, and crashed. Coroner wasn't sure what he had , exactly, and whether that or the cat crash was the ultimate cause of death.

Then, I spoke to my "BEST" cousin +Margaret Bena , the other day, and she tells me my godson, her son John Bena, who is younger than my oldest son, had a debilitating stroke, and to top things off, one of her daughters, Margaret, had some sort of CVA also. 

My purpose in this blog post is that my sons, +John Sobieski , +Mark Sobieski , +Matthew Sobieski , and +Peter Sobieski , might see this and correct any thing that might lead to the same end as all the rest. It would really suck, if I had to travel North for a funeral. Parents are supposed to precede their children into the Great Unknown, not the other way around.