The Old Neighborhood

So while I was back in New York, I had some time to kill, so since I had my mom's car, I decided to drive through my old neighborhood and check out some of my hangouts. This is a photo diary of that experience...

















This is the Westbury Children's Public Library. I used to love coming here. I would walk in and be completely enthralled in all the variety. I could spend hours here. For the most part I would walk the 3/4 of a mile from my house to the library just to enjoy all the different books that I could get lost in. I also used to sign myself up for any of the arts and crafts classes that looked good. Amazing how independent I was at a young age.

There was also the time that me, my older brother Sean, and his friend Louis Defino rode our bikes down to the library. They both had really cool ten speed bikes. I had my girlie pink banana seat bike. I LOVED that bike. When we got there, I suggested that we lock our bikes up. They said no, since we weren't going to be in there for long and if anyone's bike was going to get stolen it would be one of theirs. So would you believe that when we came out their bikes were still where we left them, but of course, mine was gone. That was a sad walk home...
















And there is this lovely place - St. Brigid's Catholic School. I attended this school from the 1st grade through the 6th grade. I had a lot of friends here. Until the new girl came in. Michelle Esposito. She started at St. Brigid's in the 3rd grade. I should have known when I, the model of a perfect student, actually got in trouble for talking during class. I was so ashamed when Miss Mooney, my red haired diabetic teacher, had to yell at me for talking during class.

Anyway, Michelle and I became good friends, and with her influence, I began to turn on all of the people I had been friends with since kindergarten. Even now, I look back and think about them - Patricia Pezzino, Arlayna Willis, John Barr, Thomas Maria, Connie Bove - and wonder how things may have been different. And if you are wondering, Michelle lost her place as my best friend shortly after I left St. Brigids and joined her at Holy Family. In the long run, I ended up with no one. It's amazing how much that whole situation affected me.

The other memory that I have of this school, also includes the wonderful Miss Mooney. For some reason, we didn't have enough reading text books, so Miss Mooney made every one read Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder. What you need to understand is that up until this point I could have cared less about reading. It had always seemed like a chore. I read that book and fell in love with being able to escape into some one elses life. It was amazing. I couldn't get enough so I read the entire Little House series. After that I have not stopped reading. I will always be grateful to Miss Mooney for that. When I publish a book I will dedicate it to her for giving me that gift.

















You are probably wondering what the picture above is - it is hard to figure out. If you look closely you will notice a backstop. This is the field that I played softball on for a few seasons in grammar school. I always loved playing, until I heard my dad screaming at me. I still can't deal with it. I mean, I joined my office softball team and I told my dad that if he wanted to come to the games he would have to promise me that he would not open his mouth. Even at 27 I think "You run like a girl" would bother me.
















And this of course is the house that I grew up in. The house that was foreclosed on. The one that I didn't want to leave. The amazing thing is that the outside of the house has not changed, even though I know the inside has; the house was gutted after we left and converted into an (illegal) multi family home. But some things didn't change. Same white siding with blue trim. All the same windows. If you look on the left side, second floor, at the back of the house, you can see the window to what had been my room. It looks the same, but it was gutted.

This is the part of the tour that really made me sad. Even though there were some bad times in this house, there were good times too. Like playing Barbies with my little sister Meaghan in the basement. We were so funny - in the summer we would load our Barbie families into their cars, packed with all their camping or beach gear and drive them upstairs and out into the backyard, where they would get ship wrecked in the middle of our pool.

The Christmas when I knew that I was getting a purple and pink ten speed bike - just like my best friend Michelle's - since I had found it snooping a few days earlier. But when I got up at 4 am it was no where to be found. I searched every where, in the basement, in the kitchen, in the foyer, getting desparate, I looked out on the deck, bu it wasn't there. I was heart broken. And then I turned to walk back to the living room, and there it was! (If you are wondering - my brother and I, and later Meaghan, would get up as early as possible and open our gifts before our parents got up. This was good for two reasons - my parents got to sleep in whole occasionally being woken up to be shown what "Santa" had brought, and more importantly, if I got something that I didn't like I had time to work up an "Of course I like it" expression - I wasn't put on the spot.

It kind of made me sad to see how things were different in the old neighborhood, even though not much actually changes. It's probably a matter of perception. You can never go back...