I've been going to AA meetings and not drinking for the past month and doing "stepwork" with a sponsor. This necessitates a lot of thinking about the past, and I've been trying to write some fiction based on my early years in the Bronx.
I've been looking around on the web for pictures of the various neighborhoods to jar my memory and bizarrely I came across this remembrance of 1807 Bussing Avenue - the very house I lived in as a kid, from age 2 to 10.
Bussing Avenue
"The house sold quickly", the woman says. Well, they sold it to US, my mom confirms, in 1967. Really strange. This is me there:
So now we're all remembering, (me and my mom and brother and sister) back and forth by email, our own memories of the house.
But it's freakish, because it's mostly bad bad memories, with drunk dad, and guns and violence and finally the parents divorcing in the 70s. Super. It's all coming back.
I've been looking around on the web for pictures of the various neighborhoods to jar my memory and bizarrely I came across this remembrance of 1807 Bussing Avenue - the very house I lived in as a kid, from age 2 to 10.
Bussing Avenue
"The house sold quickly", the woman says. Well, they sold it to US, my mom confirms, in 1967. Really strange. This is me there:
So now we're all remembering, (me and my mom and brother and sister) back and forth by email, our own memories of the house.
But it's freakish, because it's mostly bad bad memories, with drunk dad, and guns and violence and finally the parents divorcing in the 70s. Super. It's all coming back.
omd.