Quality Peoples

One of our days in New York, Marcia and I decided to drive up to Croton-On-Hudson. A tiny little commuter town, in Westchester County, about an hour north of the city. The place where I grew up.

In Croton, I took Marcia on a mini-tour of the spots where I used to hang as a kid: The center of town, my skating hangout, a series of curbs that my skateboard ravaged for years. My good friend Phil’s house near the catholic church. My elementary and middle schools. The Croton Dam, a gorgeous piece of mid-19th century engineering and architecture and one of the tallest dams in the US. Silver Lake, the local swimming hole down stream from the dam where the lifeguard supervisor yells at you for even walking close to the area of unsupervised river, where out-of-towners and those unwilling to pay the 7 buck day-pass fee go to swim. E/T Cycle Center, the place I spent half my childhood in, perusing dirt bikes, skateboards, magazines, etc… My favorite pizza restaurant, growing up, on where I ate pizza every day for lunch for years. The piece of rock I used to sit on, waiting for the school bus at the end of my street. And last but not least, the house that I grew up in, 7 King Street.

Marcia was so amazed by Croton. She couldn’t quite relate to my experience as a child. Being mexican, her childhood was so different. She couldn’t believe how small (and provincial) Croton is (and imagine it 15 years ago). How the houses are spread out and green is everywhere as opposed to concrete. and the history of the buildings, my house for instance, around 300 years old.

She amazed and I reminisced. We took a dip in the cool water of the croton river and for one day I got to relive a hundred memories stored away in a shoe box in the back of my mind. We pulled out on to 9a, headed south and said goodbye to Croton, for another 15 years or so…

slideshow | photoset

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