The other day we went over to hang out at the water. I told Lisa it reminded me of my Uncle V. Not that we ever went over there. It was the smell of the sea.
Uncle V loved the water. He used to take me and my cousins fishing all the time. We would load up his Chrysler Newport sedan with the fishing poles and the cooler and the outboard motor in the trunk. We would drive out to the end of Long Island at Orient Point or to the Peconic Bay in Southhold and rent a boat. Hook up the motor. And fish all day. In the 1960's we used to catch hundreds of fish. Yes hundreds. Our limit was about 200. We didn't do it every time but many times.
One of the things I remember most was the smell of the water and the wind off the water. On a hot day the wind was wonderful. I got the same feeling looking at the water down by the bridge.
Fishing wasn't the only thing we did with Uncle V. He was a surrogate father for all of us because our Dads were all working second jobs. He would take us to the McBurney YMCA in the City where he was a charter member. He taught us how to run on the track. Lift weights. Box. Hitting the heavy bag. He had his own speed bag that he would set up and taught us to make it sing. I can still do that.
We would hang out in the Youth Department. They had pool tables. Ping Pong. A bunch of classes. Judo. Swimming.Handball. It was an all day thing.
When it was over at around five we would all pile out and meet up with my Uncle. And then he took us out to dinner. He would take us to a bunch of joints. Ratners. Chinatown. Lombardi's for pizza. The best. The absolute best was when he took us to Horn and Hardart.
It was over on 42nd and Third Avenue and it was really cool. It had all the food behind glass. You would walk up and put a token in the slot and then you could open the door and get your food. We would get all our favorites. Mac and cheese. Hot dogs. And pie. Lots and lots of pie. It was great when you were a kid and could pick out whatever you wanted. The food was hearty and tasty and stuck to your ribs. The pies were sublime. Also keylime. But mainly sublime.
Uncle V is gone now. You have to get a license to fish in the ocean. They count the number and size of the fish you take. A joint like Horn and Hardart could never exist. The food Nazi's and the nanny state would come up with a thousand regulations. You can't pick the food yourself. What do you think this is a free country?
Another part of old New York that is gone forever.
I want pie.