An important place.
August 20, 2013
As a child the most important place to me was the block in my neighborhood I grew up on. It was a particularly long and very wide street with several pairs of incredibly tall palm trees spread throughout both sidewalks. There was no shortage of playmates; almost every other home on the block had children around my age I could play with. There was also an older generation of teenagers that hung around together. I also had other family members living down the street from my house on the same block. As the children played daily so did the adults. The men of the block all met daily after work rotating from one home to another. They could be seen sitting around every afternoon in the backyard or sometimes front porch joking and laughing, drinking beers, talking about god knows what; it all looked like a great time. The women, the wives, and the grandmothers also all hung out together, but not as organized as the men. The women gossiped and shared recipes. The men drank beers, ate meat and talked about men things, while the kids played. In a sense, we all played and had fun in our own way. My best memories of my life started here, my block in my old neighborhood. As a kid it wasn’t difficult to find a playmate. There were many children who grew up on my block on Carondelet Street in the City of Los Angeles. There were always kids running around coming and going from house to house and playing with each other as well as their siblings. Since everyone on the street were so close it was never an issue if you were allowed to play or not. Everyone was always so welcoming; that’s how people got so close forming friendships promised to last a lifetime. I was fortunate enough to have 2 best friends as a child, Michael and Marco. We did everything together and if one of us decided to start collecting baseball cards so did the other two. If one of us decided to start eating a certain type of...
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