Here is a picture of the house that Rosie was born in (green one -- first in the picture). She lived on the top floor until she married my father. Then…she moved away…right around the corner. When I was four, we moved back to this house. We (my mother, father, and two brothers) lived on the ground floor. The summer we moved back to the “house on Withers,” my Rosie was pregnant with my sister.
During that hot, sticky summer, my responsibility was to watch my two year old brother. I was almost five at the time and really didn’t care what he wanted to do. But…Rosie told me that I had to watch him while the other kids were playing jacks, stickball, etc. There I was in a dark, damp hallway watching this sly little boy who waited and waited for me to look away so he could run outside.
…then, I would get in trouble once again. That was also the summer that I found a dead rat swimming in the toilet bowl of our little apartment. Not to fear…my father scooped it out with a spoon and threw it away.
Rosie is going on a trip back to the "old country" (B'lyn) this weekend. My sister is going with her and they will visit the old neighborhood with my uncle.
Can't wait to hear what she has to say about the house, renovations, and N.Y. in general. This will be the first trip to New York in over ten years.
...thinking of Rosie!
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