My dad grew up in Brooklyn. Not today’s Brooklyn of hipsters and coffee bars and fancy food venues, but the Brooklyn of old. The Brooklyn where kids played on the stoop and chickens were raised in yards. The Brooklyn where boys ran free in the streets and jumped from roof to roof to show off for the girls. My dad has so many wonderful stories about his youth in the Marine Park neighborhood. He told me this beauty the other night:
Dad: “When I was a kid….we all carried salt shakers in our back pockets in the summer.”
Me: “Salt shakers? In your back pocket?”
Dad: “Yup. There was a truck farm where they grew tomatoes right down the block. We’d play baseball all day long, and then, when we were really hot and sweaty, we’d run down to the farm, grab a few fresh tomatoes, find a cool spot under a big tree, sprinkle salt on the tomatoes, and ahhhh. That’s what summers were made of.”
I just love this story. It captures so much about the simple pleasures of summer, of youth, and of the good old days!