The master plan produced paltry results today. Early this morning I drove my car to the Sheepshead Bay promenade, hoping to find a favorable parking spot for when I'd set up shop at mid-day. I did, right under a short tree in full bloom. I stood in the shade the entire shift, enjoying the breeze blowing off the water, where jet-skiers frolicked. Unfortunately, I had only one buyer, a gentleman who took Sara Conway's Murder on Good Friday (2001), set in the 13th century, and Charles Todd's A Matter of Justice (2008), set in the early 1900's. Thanks, sir.
I am amazed at how much quieter it is on the 4th of July compared to when I was growing up. Cops started cracking down at least a couple of decades ago. They put the kibosh on John Gotti's annual bash in Queens, and the crackdown seemed to spread from there. Most of us bought fireworks when we were kids. A Mat, 80 packs of firecrackers, 20 to a pack, was the most popular item. Others were Jap Rockets, Pin Wheels, Aerial Bombs, Cherry Bombs and Ash Cans, which somewhere along the line came to be known as M-80's. My favorite was the Silver Jet, which took off from the ground and soared high into the air, leaving a wake similar to a common fireworks display. Nicky Fasano, a Master Sergeant in the Army, stationed at nearby Fort Hamilton, would organize a Big Shoot, wherein we'd set off packs of firecrackers consecutively for as long as possible. The people one block up, "the other Bay 37th," between 86th Street and Benson Avenue, did us one better, throwing entire Mats into a burning barrel. Some of our neighbors hated the racket, which would go on until ten-eleven PM. They would arrange their vacations for that week or go away for the day. Now all of that has been replaced by the Macy's fireworks show, and others. Coney Island has resumed a weekly summer display every Friday night. I can hear it from my apartment. I'll never forget the sight in the 50's and early 60's of crowds lined up all along the corners of Bath Avenue, gazing toward the famed amusement area a mile-and-a-half away, marveling at the colors that filled the sky. That view was lost to a building boom that brought high-rise apartments to the neighborhood. It was something to see. Brooklyn was a helluva place to grow up. We were lower middle class stock, but privileged.
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