New Orleans
Published on Blog 6/2/2014 Houston
In the days of my youth, my favorite time of year was SUMMER! I remember those hot, humid New Orleans Saturdays when I'd go to the movies; and I recall the cool dark of the old BELL theatre, the smell of popcorn, and the giggling and quick footsteps of the neighborhood kids scurrying to the soda fountain.
I remember having to go to the barbershop. (ALWAYS too often!) It was muggy outside -----stifling! Especially after a brisk walk... but inside Yetta's Barbershop it was so cool! And there was that smell that only a barbershop had: a sort of aftershave/talcum fragrance. There was the hum of the shaver, and the snip-snip of the scissors.
In the corner, under a chair, there awaited every young visitor an immense box of COMIC BOOKS!
I remember actually being disappointed if I didn't have to wait. The longer the wait, the more comic books I could read. Then, Mr. Yetta would call me and I'd have my turn in the barber chair. After I paid him he'd realize I was not quite through reading, so he'd let me take home one or two comics.
(I always thanked him, but I wonder if he knew how much I appreciated what he did?"
I'd leave Mr. Yetta's like a shorn sheep, and again the 95° + heat would burn my face as I headed down towards Broad Street. At the corner of d'Abadie and N. Broad, on the uptown lake corner, across from the Coney Island Bar, was Hurley's Pharmacy. It was a typical, small, independent drug-store, where the pharmacist, Mr. Hurley, was the owner. A decal on the door read: "Come in, it's KOOL inside!" and a green penguin blew a smoke ring.
I remember the Brown's Velvet Ice Cream sign just over the door. It foretold of the cool, refreshing treat of a chocolate ice cream cup that I'd buy inside! I'd check out the comic book rack and probably invest my very last quarter in the lastet SUPERMAN or BATMAN issue. Then I'd go back to my grandparents' house, where there was always something good to eat.
There were many things I enjoyed about the old neighborhood. Most of the buildings, houses, and trees remain much as they were back then. But the BELL Theatre is gone forever. Mr. Yetta's Barbershop is now a vacant Soul Fashion Salon. Hurley's Pharmacy and the cool ice cream cups are but a pleasant memory.
Every time I go to the old neighborhood, my mind goes back to a different year and a different time that has all too quickly come and gone. It is written that "nothing is constant but change." This being so, I must gracefully surrender the things of youth and accept my rightful place in adulthood.
But I woudn't mind at all if I could go back to that barbershop... run in just one more time, and say: "Mr. Yetta, thanks for the comic books... and thanks for the memories!!"
___________________________________________
2014
The above story was written in the Summer of 1988. Twenty-six years have passed since I wrote that little piece for no-one in particular. Consider it a snapshot of how I felt back then.
Since then, my children have grown up, with little ones of their own. As for the old neighborhood, well there have been many, many changes. The tastes, smells, sights, and sounds of the place are not the same, now. Nearly everybody that I ever knew there has passed away. Those sweet, happy old faces of the neighbors will smile at me no more.
After the flood waters of a devastating hurricane called Katrina, many of the old houses are either rebuilt or just vacant lots. The fact is, most of the things I have fond memories of just aren't there anymore.
Living a new life in Houston, I remember one day seeing a video of things I remember about New Orleans, done to a funny song: "It Aint' Dere No More!" As I watched the video, instead of laughing, I found a deep sadness welling up inside, as I realized that the place I called home just is not there any more.
The truth is - I am an exile: I can't go back home, now. As one song laments: "Home ain't home anymore..."
An old jazz song asks the question: "Do you know what it means, to miss New Orleans...?" I know I do! I miss it each night and day. But more than the houses and the parks, and the trees, there was all of my family, who walk with me now in memory.
They are what I miss most about New Orleans.
This used to be Hurley's Pharmacy.
This used to be Yetta's Barbershop - d"Abadie at Paul Morphy
The old BELL Theatre used to be here.
It ain't dere no more.
In the days of my youth, my favorite time of year was SUMMER! I remember those hot, humid New Orleans Saturdays when I'd go to the movies; and I recall the cool dark of the old BELL theatre, the smell of popcorn, and the giggling and quick footsteps of the neighborhood kids scurrying to the soda fountain.
I remember having to go to the barbershop. (ALWAYS too often!) It was muggy outside -----stifling! Especially after a brisk walk... but inside Yetta's Barbershop it was so cool! And there was that smell that only a barbershop had: a sort of aftershave/talcum fragrance. There was the hum of the shaver, and the snip-snip of the scissors.
In the corner, under a chair, there awaited every young visitor an immense box of COMIC BOOKS!
I remember actually being disappointed if I didn't have to wait. The longer the wait, the more comic books I could read. Then, Mr. Yetta would call me and I'd have my turn in the barber chair. After I paid him he'd realize I was not quite through reading, so he'd let me take home one or two comics.
(I always thanked him, but I wonder if he knew how much I appreciated what he did?"
I'd leave Mr. Yetta's like a shorn sheep, and again the 95° + heat would burn my face as I headed down towards Broad Street. At the corner of d'Abadie and N. Broad, on the uptown lake corner, across from the Coney Island Bar, was Hurley's Pharmacy. It was a typical, small, independent drug-store, where the pharmacist, Mr. Hurley, was the owner. A decal on the door read: "Come in, it's KOOL inside!" and a green penguin blew a smoke ring.
I remember the Brown's Velvet Ice Cream sign just over the door. It foretold of the cool, refreshing treat of a chocolate ice cream cup that I'd buy inside! I'd check out the comic book rack and probably invest my very last quarter in the lastet SUPERMAN or BATMAN issue. Then I'd go back to my grandparents' house, where there was always something good to eat.
There were many things I enjoyed about the old neighborhood. Most of the buildings, houses, and trees remain much as they were back then. But the BELL Theatre is gone forever. Mr. Yetta's Barbershop is now a vacant Soul Fashion Salon. Hurley's Pharmacy and the cool ice cream cups are but a pleasant memory.
Every time I go to the old neighborhood, my mind goes back to a different year and a different time that has all too quickly come and gone. It is written that "nothing is constant but change." This being so, I must gracefully surrender the things of youth and accept my rightful place in adulthood.
But I woudn't mind at all if I could go back to that barbershop... run in just one more time, and say: "Mr. Yetta, thanks for the comic books... and thanks for the memories!!"
___________________________________________
2014
The above story was written in the Summer of 1988. Twenty-six years have passed since I wrote that little piece for no-one in particular. Consider it a snapshot of how I felt back then.
Since then, my children have grown up, with little ones of their own. As for the old neighborhood, well there have been many, many changes. The tastes, smells, sights, and sounds of the place are not the same, now. Nearly everybody that I ever knew there has passed away. Those sweet, happy old faces of the neighbors will smile at me no more.
After the flood waters of a devastating hurricane called Katrina, many of the old houses are either rebuilt or just vacant lots. The fact is, most of the things I have fond memories of just aren't there anymore.
Living a new life in Houston, I remember one day seeing a video of things I remember about New Orleans, done to a funny song: "It Aint' Dere No More!" As I watched the video, instead of laughing, I found a deep sadness welling up inside, as I realized that the place I called home just is not there any more.
The truth is - I am an exile: I can't go back home, now. As one song laments: "Home ain't home anymore..."
An old jazz song asks the question: "Do you know what it means, to miss New Orleans...?" I know I do! I miss it each night and day. But more than the houses and the parks, and the trees, there was all of my family, who walk with me now in memory.
They are what I miss most about New Orleans.
This used to be Hurley's Pharmacy.
This used to be Yetta's Barbershop - d"Abadie at Paul Morphy
The old BELL Theatre used to be here.
It ain't dere no more.
No comments:
Post a Comment