I was raised on 172nd Street & Fort Washington Avenue in the middle of Washington Heights, and attended P.S. 173, a block away. Through nine years my extended family lived in the same apartment building due to my uncle's relationship with the owner, who had him working as his rental agent during that time. Thus, my grandmother lived next door, my great aunt lived on the first floor, and two other aunts and four cousins lived in the other wing of this 6 story residence. Sure, we lived the urban life, but never wanted for a loving family around us.
I played in Morris Park, collecting mica from the basalt boulders that made up the bedrock under all of Manhattan Island, and began my lifelong love of geology (college major and business for many years). My cousins and I explored the "heights" at the bottom of our street and across Haven Avenue, where ancient stairs led down the cliff to the Hudson River just south of the G.W. Bridge; running over Riverside Drive and Henry Hudson Parkway (we were fearless and stupid) to reach the Little Red Lighthouse and make believe we were knights defending our castle from evil.
The neighborhood was hilly, with great views of the river and Palisades in Jersey. We were just a few blocks from Broadway, where my grandmother would take me along on shopping walks to the kosher butcher, bakery, green grocer and dairy store for weekly provisions. At each stop, she made sure I got a sampling of their goods - slice of baloney, cupcake, green grapes and small paper cup of heavy cream - so that I never had room for dinner that night. Yes. I wore suspenders and she was trying to fatten me up.
I didn't realize how good I had it. It was and remains the most beautiful part of Manhattan, with rich cultural heritage. From Jewish to Dominican, and every group in between, it was the best melting pot in the city. Eventually, my parents worried about my milk money being taken from me daily by the tough kids who waited in the park for us to pass by and relieve us of our coins, and even more frightened that we would grow up and become part of the gang, we moved from the city life to the "safety" and boredom of North Jersey.
There, we were the tough kids parents were afraid of. No doubt, we aged more quickly on concrete, than these suburban kids did on grass. Just wish I had provided that experience to my own kids to better prepare them for all the tough kids in life. read more