The Fig File: City Kids Don’t Play In The Street Anymore.
When I left my front door as a kid with my little group of friends and ventured into the endless concrete park that was Queens streets; from the handball courts, store studded Metropolitan Avenue, to our make shift skateboard parks and stick ball fields, Amir’s Deli on Woodhaven Blvd, Crowley Park on 57th Avenue and even hanging down the old diesel freight train tracks, I truly wanted the days to never end. Not because my home life was bad at all; I was and am still blessed to have two married parents, a little brother who has grown much bigger than me these recent years, black Lab/Newfoundland Husky named Debbie, small city yard and 3 square meals a day. But nothing compared to hanging in the neighborhood with my buddies. To play in the streets defies the eternal parental mantra; you know ‘if you go out Michael, don’t play in the street or you’re gonna get it!”- all the more reason to do it: because our parents wanted us not to. And you would not want to be the guy who said my parents told me not to. It is a city thing and a city kid thing at that; hanging on the Avenue or the Boulevard and while we knew home is where the heart is, our souls were out on those streets all year round.
Spring took away the layers and brought first catches between a fathers and sons, bikes thawed and came out of the garage for races and tricks. The sticky sewer scent and park sprinklers beckoned boys and girls of summer for a cool down, a drink at a park fountain, an ice cream cone from Mister Softee’s truck. The Fall brought tricks, treats, new school year, tackle football in Juniper Park and the World Series. Winter snow tickled kids out of their beds and into snow suits and sparked snowball fights, sledding, hot chocolate, cold slate moon, visions of Santa. It was easy then. It was good and it was right.
So what is happening in Queens?
In my neighborhood and in those that surround where I live - the kids are MIA. I mean it, blocks and stoops are vacant, parks have dwindled down to a few clusters of kids on basketball courts, park benches. Even as I pass by peoples homes they are shut in like fortresses: shades and blinds drawn, lights out, dead. But I know there are young families with children where I am from and there is unavoidable evidence everywhere to prove it. Just two doors down from where I live there is a neatly parked blue caravan with the baby seat strapped into the back seat and a few paces south from that there is a front yard full of Big Wheels and brightly colored balls. Around the block there is a large brick house with a basketball hoop stationed in front of the driveway, but not basketball.
So where are all the kids playing yelling and riding up and down the block - even playing in Monday’s snow storm?
My hypothesis: kids are content staying in doors; and Mommy and Daddy are encouraging, in some casing enforcing this behavior. The Queens breed of kid is recently happy not riding their bikes, playing stick ball or running through neighborhood parks but are found nestled in front of their televisions playing their Nintendo Wii, listening to their I-Pod Nano, watching bad Japanese Anime and far worse: watching Hannah Montana. Their parents, fearing all that is lurking outside their front door keep the lights off, doors double locked with chain lock for added protection and breathe a sigh of relief that little Johnny and Janey are in their sights and not in the streets. But Mom and Dad, keeping your sons and daughters off of the streets is like preventing them from crawling; it’s the bitter taste of the New York City pavement that flows through the 5 Boroughs that keeps them grounded, gets them ready for what the next 60 or if they are lucky enough 70 years has in store for them. They have to get on their hands and knees and lick that black concrete, get that burnt dirty black tar taste in their mouth and get ready to pay taxes, get ripped off by the MTA, bailout out billionaires and watch terrorists out of the corner of their eyes.
Give them back their bikes. Let them loose in the streets. At least until they are 16 and can file for working papers. Then their lights can go out and their doors can be double locked.
Tomorrow: Senate Majority Leader Malcolm Smith will join the John Gambling Show to discuss why he has asked to have full access to the MTA’s audited records. Full report tomorrow folks.
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