Growing up in Brooklyn, in the early 90’s was one of the best experiences in my life. I remember the ice cream trucks, corner stores, fire hydrates being opened for the kids especially when there was a block party but most of all, the unity of families and neighbors. Many people will say “Brooklyn, only the strong survive” and I have lived by that phrase my entire life. It showed me the beauty of living in one of the boroughs that makes up New York City and has taught me to be a strong person. It’s not made for the weak. My neighborhood was mostly Puerto Ricans and Dominicans, so I fit right in. My parents came from the Dominican Republic to the United States in the 60’s, providing us a better opportunity to advance.
I could hear …show more content…
We would get buckets, fill them up and run around chasing one another so we could throw the water on each other. Sometimes we would even get our parents wet. We would laugh so hard that our sides would hurt. All my friends would be there, we could run around, ride our bikes in the street and not worry about any cars. Playing in the street was something major to a kid.
When our mothers would give us money, off to the corner store we went. There was no doubt in our minds, we would each get a bag of Doritos and a quarter water drink. If we had any change left over, we would get some penny candies. Little chewy tootsie roll candies that just melted on your tongue. The best were the red and purple ones.
My mom hardly let me eat junk so I was in Heaven. Being that the store was on the corner, we were allowed to walk with no supervision. We felt like adults, even if it was just for a few minutes. The neighborhood men, some were fathers sitting at a table playing dominos and having a few beers. The owner of the store, a short, Muslim man with a lot of facial hair, knew all the neighborhood families and their kids so were safe no matter where we
I could hear …show more content…
We would get buckets, fill them up and run around chasing one another so we could throw the water on each other. Sometimes we would even get our parents wet. We would laugh so hard that our sides would hurt. All my friends would be there, we could run around, ride our bikes in the street and not worry about any cars. Playing in the street was something major to a kid.
When our mothers would give us money, off to the corner store we went. There was no doubt in our minds, we would each get a bag of Doritos and a quarter water drink. If we had any change left over, we would get some penny candies. Little chewy tootsie roll candies that just melted on your tongue. The best were the red and purple ones.
My mom hardly let me eat junk so I was in Heaven. Being that the store was on the corner, we were allowed to walk with no supervision. We felt like adults, even if it was just for a few minutes. The neighborhood men, some were fathers sitting at a table playing dominos and having a few beers. The owner of the store, a short, Muslim man with a lot of facial hair, knew all the neighborhood families and their kids so were safe no matter where we