Saturday, March 24, 2012

Hari Krishna baby......

In 1969 a lot things changed. The surety and the rock hard unity that was the basis of the church and neighborhood was starting to shatter. We didn't know it at the time but the process was begining where the kids riding bikes with baseball cards in the spokes were to be replaced by people with tattoos sipping $2 cups of coffee while walking a frou frou fucking dog on a leash would take over the place where Nunzio and Enzo and Guiesseppi used to hang out on the corner and sing Dion songs.

There was a convent on the corner of Kane and Henry Street that housed an order of cloistered sisters. The Nursing Sisters of the Poor. They worked in hospitals and hospices but had little contact otherwise with the outside world. Well quite of few of the sisters had decided to leave the convent and go out in the world of the wild and wooly 1960's. There weren't enough of them to make it worthwhile to maintain this big structure so the church put it up for sale. And it sold pretty quickly. To the Hari Krishna's.

Now this was long before we knew anything about cults or eastern religions or new age or any of that stuff. We just saw these people in orange robes banging tamborines. They would come and go from the house and didn't have much contact with the neighborhood. Of course there was a reason for that.

One day in one of the first weeks after the cult  moved in they had a couple of the Krishnas start to talk to some of the kids who hung out at PS 29's School yard which was across  the street from the Krishna's new temple. One of them went and told his father who was a connected guy. Now he wasn't connected to Con Edison if you know what I mean. So the next day this guy and couple of his friends from the Wimpy Boys Social club knocked on the door and asked to talk to the head freak. When they came downstairs Big Louie grabbed him by the neck and held him up against the wall. They politely informed him that tif any of the bald headed freaks talked to the neighborhood kids they would burn down the temple and everyone in it.

So the Hari guys sort of kept to themselves after that.

It was what you called neighborhood community policing as it were.

I miss those days.

I fit in then.

I don't fit in so much anymore.

Wait I have to go to the front of the store. Somebody wants to bring a frou frou fucking dog into the store.

12 comments:

chickelit said...

What kills me is the slavish devotion to pure bred dogs amongst the urban HIP. There's no more good old-fashioned love for mutts in this world. So many animals go down for lack of love because it's just not cool.

ndspinelli said...

Are Titus and the rare clumber doing a pop-in?

ndspinelli said...

Pit Bulls are the most popular dog on Mission and Pacific Beach. I don't get it.

Last year I drove across country w/ our loyal golden retiever. It was his last hurrah. Kozmo got along w/ everyone even the pit bulls, although one did show his teeth @ the big boy on the beach once. With all the kids on the beach it's just not a good situation. We had to put our dog down in January. We're scattering his ashes in the Pacific before we leave. Koz was almost 15..a great life.

ndspinelli said...
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The Dude said...

Nick, sorry to hear about the loss of your dog - that's very sad. Sounds like he was a champ and had a great life. I lost my Golden/Yellow mix 4 years ago, and the grief was intense. Fortunately for me a Border Collie mix puppy came into my life and kept me so occupied that I couldn't stay sad for long.

She is now, officially, the best dog in the history of the world. She's the dog Rin Tin Tin and Lassie both hoped they could be.

ndspinelli said...

Thanks, Sixty. The big boy had a great life. On my trip out to San Diego I took the southern route. Being born and raised in Wi. Kozmo never experienced the desert or cactus. Well, you can't stop in western Texas, NM or Arizona for piss/shit stops w/o encountering cactus. Everytime his paw or butt hit a cactus he would look @ me w/ a "what the fuck?" on his face. We flew him home.

blake said...

I love mutts.

When I was a kid you just had to wait and someone would have a puppy he needed to get rid of. Or it'd be cheap.

Or you could go to the pet store and spend $10-$15 on a mutt.

And this mutt wouldn't have bad hips or bad vision or a short lifespan.

Evi L. Bloggerlady said...

I love mutts. But I have seen too many "rescue" dogs that like to roll in shit and then eat it. Sorry, it is a friggin turn off. So I prefer a pure bred that at least you have some rough idea of their behavior.

MamaM said...

I miss those days.

I fit in then.

I don't fit in so much anymore.


Old dogs find their own niche. Not fitting in may end up being a plus with the audience. MrM was in Montreal this week, turned on the TV to hear Storage Wars in French. That'll be a trip for the LeeLee's!

rcommal said...
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rcommal said...

Too bad it all had to go haywire

rcommal said...

Miss Dolly, who always understood stuff--on account of her own upbringing, but mostly on account of her big old heart--always sang, including this version, for example.