What better time to think about warm
weather than when you're snowed in.
It was the 1940's into the early 50's.
I lived on the first floor of a six-story brick apartment building in
The Bronx (note the capital T, please). Whenever weather permitted, a
group of older women would sit in a line on the sidewalk in front of
the entrance to the building.
I called it “Murderer's Row”
because I had to walk past them whenever I entered or left. I could
feel their eyes on me all the way. Although we lived in the same
building, I didn't know any of them. They never said anything to me
nor I to them. But they made me feel self-conscious.
To be fair, these were
pre-air-conditioning days and fresh air was where you found it. If it
meant sitting outside for an hour or two with friends that was what
you did.
A few years ago, on the way home from
the Bronx Zoo, I drove past the old neighborhood. No one sat outside
buildings. Instead, there were iron gates across the entrances to
most of the old apartment houses.
That was then, this is now.
