Growing up Urban
But….That was a Long Ago.
3 min read
bonniemdj@yahoo.com
by Bonnie Ann Lieberman
I knew the sacred scent of family
Excited children Friday afternoons
Climbing steps to their apartments
Tantalized by whiffs of chicken soup
simmering on kitchen stoves.
I knew the comfort of routine
Cold hands on the doorknob, “We’re home!”
Welcoming the Sabbath
as Dad rushed in
Lighting candles, semi-singing in prayer
Enjoying a festive meal.
I knew the double knock and walk-in
the open-door policy of neighbors
Moms sipping coffee- light, no sugar
Admiring their children as we played
jacks, boardgames, cutouts, and pretend
Dad opens the folding tables and chairs
Jiggling coins and playing Poker.
I knew the expectation of safety
Our neighborhood watch.
“Strangers”? only watchful adults
Nodding to boys and girls
“Please, watch me cross the street.”
Eyes fixed till our shoes reached the pavement.
I knew the sound of unspoken trust
Tenants becoming family members
Lending and borrowing
tools, milk, eggs, sugar, bread
Dresses and coats for formal events
I relished the enchanting aroma of Christmas
of fresh-cut evergreens hauled up the staircase
of sugar cookies baking in the oven
of sliced glazed ham and stewed apples
A festive holiday dinner.
I knew the shrieks of laughter
Broom handles batting Spaulding
playing hide and go seek in alleyways.
lifting off the tops of sewers
Fishing with hangers for lost rubber balls.
I knew the comfort of belonging
Grown-ups setting up beach chairs
Placed out front in a semi-circle
Rising to grab their children’s hands
chasing the ice cream for evening treats.
An enclave of shops on the avenue
Fulfilling all of our basic needs-
Keys, food, books, stationery
Clothing, shoes, restaurants
Open well after dark.
Screenless windows overlooking still air
Perhaps a harbinger of what was to come
On a Sunday afternoon, a purse was snatched
From an open apartment -a family inside
A random, insignificant crime.
A child grabbed by the neck
forced to give away his bicycle
Baby carriages left outside
Taken in daylight
A fire set under the staircase
A liquor store hold-up
On a larger scale, a local bank
A knifing in a courtyard
forced many to rethink
That crime is not random here.
I learned the stench of addiction
Fetid, stale urine
From cold-blooded drug addicts
waiting to score
Nodding out under the staircase
I learned the state of apathy
Cigarette butts and shards of glass
From broken beer bottles
their trademarks sprayed painted
on hallway walls with crown moldings
I learned the rage of malevolence
Courtyards, once adorned with greenery
Decaying from litter carelessly tossed
left unwatered and preyed upon.
Dog poop, hypodermic needles, and trash.
I learned the revulsion of inertia
Supers, mopping up urine with urine-soaked mops.
Hallways in darkness- fearing every step.
Wobbly banisters with sweaty grease.
Garbage spilling out of trash cans
A vermin’s delight.
I learned the cries of panic-
Muggings and shootings
And neighborhood gangs
Valuables stolen from apartments
Police locks and chains
I celebrated the wealth of starting afresh
Trucks with a lifetime of belongings
moving families from vicious decay
to a refreshing life of carefree strolling
within the confines of sought-after safety.
I knew the mistake of believing in forever
That everything that is will always be
I learned the cycle of reality
The dreamland soured very quickly.
but we must move forward.
We haven’t a choice.
Topics: An urban childhood, Things change, From security to fear
Dedicated to Lewis Harrison, may he rest in peace, who knew my growing up urban. Dedicated to Gabriella Korosi for inspring me to keep writing!
✍ — Edited and Published by
at Dancing Elephants Press. Click here for submission guidelines.
Published in Dancing Elephants Press
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Written by Bonnie Lieberman
I’ve been writing since I was 7. No matter what the genre, each of my writing pieces contains a part of me.
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