Spring Ahead, Fall Back

It’s Memorial Day weekend 2018.  Fifty years ago on Memorial Day weekend, I can say with certainty what I did. I was a mere lad—not yet six—and attended a barbecue in “The Garden”—as it was affectionately known—across the street from my house. For its lifetime, cookouts on the warm weather holidays were the rule. Prior to said festivities, my father would venture over to “Little Italy in the Bronx”—Arthur Avenue—and harvest the requisite fare: shell steaks, hamburger meat, and hot dogs. A keg of Schaefer beer was always on hand, too, along with assorted adult beverages.

After partying in this unique environment of sights, sounds, and smells, a fair share of the attendees exited the garden confines three sheets to the wind. Fortunately, many of the revelers walked home—if not exactly in a straight line—but some got behind the wheels of their cars and hit the highways and byways decidedly over the limit. The concept of a “designated driver” was pretty foreign back then.

Nowadays, it’s hard to imagine that a veritable farm existed—and a considerable one at that—on somebody else’s property in the Bronx. My grandfather and several others were originally given permission by a real estate agent to plant crops, dig a well, and erect a makeshift fence there. They had carte blanche to essentially play with fire and imbibe spirits in the space like there was no tomorrow. Sadly, though, tomorrow came. And the likes of the place will never be seen again. For more background on "Kingsbridge’s Last Victory Garden,”—as it was dubbed in the local weekly, The Riverdale Press—check out these past essays: Garden of Paradise, A Garden Grew in the Bronx, and Indisputably Simpler Times

This is a view from "the garden" of the newly built—and as yet occupied—Corlear Gardens. The year: 1968. The sunflowers tell us it was the dog days of summertime when this photo was taken.

Moving on to contemporary miscellany, I ran across this sign and wondered if a local ant population was responsible.

The first time I ordered food via GrubHub, it was pizza and delivered by a manic-eyed old geezer.

Pizza played a significant role in my youthful life and times. George, owner of Sam's Pizza, was a neighborhood icon. So what if he used the same mop on his floor as in his pizza oven. We were a heartier lot back then. This, by the way, is not Sam's Pizza.

The Metropolitan Transit Authority (MTA) is leaving no stone unturned these days. Now we positively know when we enter a subway car that we have three options: Turn right, turn left, or walk straight ahead.

New luxury apartments for lease with a choice view.

The Pigeon sisters.

Long sold by street vendors in New York City, Sabrett brand hot dogs are still readily available. Once upon a time, I loved these frankfurters. But that was then and this is now.

Vendor hot dogs typically give me agida, but I nonetheless crave Nathan's "famous" franks from time to time. Yesterday was such a time. Agida followed.

It's that tourist time of year again. Say cheese!

This ice cream truck parked at the southwest corner of Greenwich and Chambers Streets is just about where Lieutenant Kojak, in 1975, pulled into a sprawling Tribeca parking lot owned and operated by loan shark Joel Adrian (played by the incomparable Michael V. Gazzo). That parking lot in the environs of Wall Street is a distant memory now.

Kojak arriving at the aforementioned parking lot. Take my word for it: The area doesn't look remotely like this anymore.

A last nursing home food photo. How does one make a hamburger look this unappetizing?

Springtime in the Bronx.

Ebony and ivory live together in perfect harmony here in Van Cortlandt Park's Tail.

Decades ago this very man was seen—in his words—"walking it off" in the vicinity of Van Cortlandt Park. It's good to know that somethings never change.

The MTA is endeavoring to make the New York City subway system more efficient, customer-friendly, and civil. Yesterday, a train conductor made an announcement: "If you see someone who is pregnant, disabled, or elderly, stand up and give that person your seat. By doing so, you will be standing up for what's right." Wouldn't it be nice if people didn't have to be told that?

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)