My Brooklyn

Sam Chodosh

Wow some of these were great. My dad had a candy store on Ave. M between Ocean Ave. and East 21st. I never had to go out of my neighborhood for anything—all I needed was within 2 or 3 blocks on Ave. M. My mother used to send me shopping with a list of stores and a list for each store—Blue Ribbon (greengrocer), Bernstein's (2-aisle grocery), dairy store whose name I forget (I am 48 now). No money, all the people knew me and came to visit my father, Benny, to collect and b.s. about the world.

I used to ask strangers to help me cross the busy streets (Ave. M, Ocean Ave.). "Hey mister, help me cross the street." The person would hold my hand across the street. My kids were in shock from that after the "Never talk to strangers drill they got." I remember when Gil Hodges was the Met manager and lived on Bedford Ave. and stopped in the store occasionally and was such a sweet guy and put up with the abuse he got about his managerial moves . . . why did you get Sadecki, why is this guy playing . . . etc. I remember trick or treating on the 2nd and 3rd floor of the apt. house and thinking it was plenty. If weather was bad my cousins from East 27 would come over to take advantage of this. I remember thinking East 27 was the suburbs. I remember being amazed that Jews were only 2-3 % of the country, I was sure it was a misprint and the correct number was 40-50 %. My classes as P.S. 197 were typically 30 or so Jewish kids out of 40 kids. I started getting the picture at Hudde and Midwood ('68). I remember feeling sorry for the kids on TV shows like Leave it to Beaver because they didn't live in Brooklyn and needed mommy and daddy to take them everyplace. I had 20 or so friends within 100 yards of my room. I remember yelling in the alley behind my apt. bldg. (1854 Ocean Ave.) to find some of them. "Hey Jimmy's mom, can Jimmy come out?" I remember fighting with my parents that I DID NOT want to get my driver's license because I was totally satisfied with subways and buses and knowing I would become a car slave with my license. The first day I got my license they sent me to pick someone up at the airport, and that was my first taste of adult loss of freedom. My favorite thing about Pittsburgh is that my neighborhood (Squirrel Hill) reminds me of Brooklyn except for the hills. Little stores, little houses, little apt. bldgs.

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