The Annual Pilgrimage

September 6, 2008

Who says you can't go home?

Did I just commit a blogger crime by using a Bon Jovi song title as the intro of my post?

Oh well...that's what you get when you move to New Jersey.

This weekend marked the annual retreat back to "the block" for the 74th Street block party. This is one of the few annual events on our calendar that I truly look forward to. In one day, a city block manages to convert itself to an alumni reunion of family, friends & neighbors.

While most of us "kids" have moved away, we all seem to follow that homing beacon back to 74th Street every September.

More than most of its former inhabitants, I find myself on the block about once or twice a week so I tend to take it all for granted....the scenes...the houses....the sounds....the smells...all of it. The block party, however, is sensory overload. Its that electro shock stimuli that gets your brain to reminisce, to remember things that you forget on a daily basis.

Within minutes of sitting with the family I can remember things I shouldn't...specific things...moments in time that are often washed away with the passing of the years. I walk around the outside of my apartment building and I can remember whiffle ball games in front of the shoemakers' gate...I remember hitting my head on the fire hydrant after a rain storm (and my parents going to a diner before taking me to the hospital because they just HAD to eat). I can recall the kids who moved away when we were young & the new ones who moved in when were getting older. I remember the fights I got into...some won...some lost...all with the same result...friends again 5 minutes later.

People all have fond memories of their childhood...family vacations & the like. Yeah, we have those too....but....nothing has shaped me more as a man than growing up in Brooklyn, and specifically, 74th Street. While by no means was it the MEAN STREETS OF BROOKLYN, it was still Brooklyn and we went about our daily lives as if we lived in some exclusive Connecticut suburb because of 1 reason...we had the secure 4 corners of 74th street to protect us.

We learned how to respect our elders & respect one another. We were a family. And although a lot of this family has since moved away, when you get to see each other, you just know. You know that you were a part of something great that most will never know or experience.

Sadly, should I ever be blessed with kids, they will never know this kind of community amongst their friends. Not because we live in New Jersey, but because of the day & age we live in. Not to make this one of those cheesy email forwards...but its true. Nowadays, parents need to set up play dates for their kids...a play date in 1984 was looking out my sister's bedroom window to see who was out on the block. We didn't know facebook, myspace, PSP, computers or the internet.

We knew stoopball, pop-ups, the PS 170 schoolyard & Club 78.

We had it good.

The block party is our annual fix & we as junkies couldn't miss our scheduled dose. While Tropical Storm Hannah tried to wash out our fun, we braved the elements & took our hits. We camped under tarps & tents, drank cold beer, laughed & argued as families do...all under the watchful eye of 74th street...and we'll be there next year...in the same spot...doing the same thing...telling the same stories.

Thank God you can go home again.