Demon
Originally uploaded by Pablo57
Here's another picture from the Kinetic Carnival Flickr Group showing the demon from Dante's Inferno in Astroland. The ride is down and he's cursing the heavens.
Seems appropriate, doesn't it?
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Demon Cursing The Heavens
Demon
Originally uploaded by Pablo57
Here's another picture from the Kinetic Carnival Flickr Group showing the demon from Dante's Inferno in Astroland. The ride is down and he's cursing the heavens.
Coney Island Beach NY - Dec. 29, 2008
Coney Island Beach NY - Dec. 29, 2008
Originally uploaded by Rubys Host
Nice winter view from the pier courtesy of the Kinetic Carnival Flickr Group.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Coney Island Beach, NYsunset with snow 2008
Joey DePinto
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Confession
As I'm certain is true for many of us, for most of my adult life I've painted a picture of having grown up in a tough low/middle income city housing project, as if I was once a character out of "Good Times," as if Jimmy "JJ" Walker had been playing shortstop next to me in game of punch ball in the Big Park. (Change that...Jimmy didn't look very athletic. We'd have probably put him in the sprinkler just to catch any rare balls that came off the park house roof...)
I always presented myself as someone that had succeeded despite having grown up on the wrong side of the track. I thought it made me seem more remarkable, giving people the image of someone that had scratched and clawed their way to adulthood, and who came out whole despite meager circumstances. It was a lie, and each of us lucky enough to have come through the projects in our era know it. Instead of knife fights growing up, our idea of dangerous was sneaking through "security" at Sea Gate to hang out at the "Riv." Instead of worrying about whether we'd have enough money to eat, our fear was falling off the wooden maze while playing blind man's bluff in the "little" park. Instead of drive-by shootings, we were worried about how to get our Spalding back from the two or three ladies that would incessantly sit on the benches on the cobblestones in the middle of the big park and would refuse to give our ball back if it accidentally rolled towards them, or what we'd do if the Pensy Pinkie would split in half while playing stick ball off the park house wall. What a wonderful, magical place we lived in then, when losing a game of basketball in the Cheesebox meant you were going to go for a quick swim in your cut-off shorts to cool off before you could get back on the court, where a half drawn shade in your apartment window meant that it was time to come up for dinner, and where instead of dead-beat dads, we had men like Leo Rich organizing stick ball games for us.
When my kids were growing up, I took them back to the projects to show them just how tough an upbringing their dad had gone through, when the truth was that I was brought up in the closest to paradise that I've ever known. I wanted them to appreciate all that we now have, when the truth is that my fervent hope for them is that they someday experience the true unbridled joy we shared growing up there, surrounded by hundreds of good kids, knowing even the name of the park man (Gene) who's job was to loan out checker boards to kids, where there were ALWAYS enough sparklers to go around to the kids that didn't have them on Tuesday night fireworks nights. No, none of us grew up on the "wrong side of the tracks" as I've so colorfully painted to business and social acquaintances through the years. I wouldn't trade those summer mornings on the beach, those happy nights at the "Y" playing ping pong, those days sneaking peeks at the latest "Archie" comic (before Coopey kicked us out), those road trips against the other "Y's," those times of knowing every mother playing Mah Jong, of knowing not a handful, but hundreds of other beautiful boys and girls in my age bracket, for all the summers kids now spend in Europe, for all their organized soccer leagues, their magnet schools, their Wii's, their double mocha latte's, their designer threads. Personally, I'll take a cheeseburger deluxe, a chocolate egg cream (with a side of water poured in a cone-shaped cup) at the Hubba Hubba any day of the week.
There must be a reason that so many of us are drawn back home, now so separated by miles and experiences and the passing of years. Perhaps it's that we were raised in Nirvana, but that we didn't even know it at the time.
Steve Lattman
Lattman's sister's brother
11/05/2008
I always presented myself as someone that had succeeded despite having grown up on the wrong side of the track. I thought it made me seem more remarkable, giving people the image of someone that had scratched and clawed their way to adulthood, and who came out whole despite meager circumstances. It was a lie, and each of us lucky enough to have come through the projects in our era know it. Instead of knife fights growing up, our idea of dangerous was sneaking through "security" at Sea Gate to hang out at the "Riv." Instead of worrying about whether we'd have enough money to eat, our fear was falling off the wooden maze while playing blind man's bluff in the "little" park. Instead of drive-by shootings, we were worried about how to get our Spalding back from the two or three ladies that would incessantly sit on the benches on the cobblestones in the middle of the big park and would refuse to give our ball back if it accidentally rolled towards them, or what we'd do if the Pensy Pinkie would split in half while playing stick ball off the park house wall. What a wonderful, magical place we lived in then, when losing a game of basketball in the Cheesebox meant you were going to go for a quick swim in your cut-off shorts to cool off before you could get back on the court, where a half drawn shade in your apartment window meant that it was time to come up for dinner, and where instead of dead-beat dads, we had men like Leo Rich organizing stick ball games for us.
When my kids were growing up, I took them back to the projects to show them just how tough an upbringing their dad had gone through, when the truth was that I was brought up in the closest to paradise that I've ever known. I wanted them to appreciate all that we now have, when the truth is that my fervent hope for them is that they someday experience the true unbridled joy we shared growing up there, surrounded by hundreds of good kids, knowing even the name of the park man (Gene) who's job was to loan out checker boards to kids, where there were ALWAYS enough sparklers to go around to the kids that didn't have them on Tuesday night fireworks nights. No, none of us grew up on the "wrong side of the tracks" as I've so colorfully painted to business and social acquaintances through the years. I wouldn't trade those summer mornings on the beach, those happy nights at the "Y" playing ping pong, those days sneaking peeks at the latest "Archie" comic (before Coopey kicked us out), those road trips against the other "Y's," those times of knowing every mother playing Mah Jong, of knowing not a handful, but hundreds of other beautiful boys and girls in my age bracket, for all the summers kids now spend in Europe, for all their organized soccer leagues, their magnet schools, their Wii's, their double mocha latte's, their designer threads. Personally, I'll take a cheeseburger deluxe, a chocolate egg cream (with a side of water poured in a cone-shaped cup) at the Hubba Hubba any day of the week.
There must be a reason that so many of us are drawn back home, now so separated by miles and experiences and the passing of years. Perhaps it's that we were raised in Nirvana, but that we didn't even know it at the time.
Steve Lattman
Lattman's sister's brother
11/05/2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
A Song About The Coney Island Houses
Here's a wonderful surprise for everyone. We all remember that Andy was a terrific drummer and we enjoyed seeing his band at the Y. He sent me a song that he wrote about the projects. Here is Andy in his own words:
Here's a link for the song: Paradise. Click Here
Joey DePinto
09/17/2008
I wrote the song in the late 1980's. After a night of recording new songs at the studio, I was driving home and I just started thinking of Coney Island and growing up in a special place. You came and you went, but you always came back. Safe and secure. You know? But when you left, other elements of life affected you. It was like stepping outside of Paradise. I think I wrote the song in about 20 minutes. Andy Adams
Here's a link for the song: Paradise. Click Here
Joey DePinto
09/17/2008
The Poor Man's Paradise
The Coney Island Houses, for me anyway, was a magical place. My father called it the "poor man's paradise" and a paradise it was. It was a place where everyone had someone, a place where there were no strangers and a place that seemed to afford us all everything we ever needed. We were basically a self-contained unit. We had our own supermarket, pharmacy and four luncheonettes (remember Willie's, Jimmy's, Hy and Artie's and the HUBBA HUBBA!). Two Kosher deli's, Two excellent bakeries, Gittler's, Larry & Vinnie's and John's Pizza, Sam's Kinishes, a doughnut shop, a Chinese restaurant, Mary's Heros, a bowling alley, a poolroom, the 'Y', banks, schools, Stella's Italian Restaurant just to name a few. Remember Coopey's Corner?
But the most important factor of all of this is that we had each other. Mulitple age groups of children and adults melding together at times, unified in the feeling that we were all one family. We may not have realized it at the time but we were all part of a very special world that to this day and for lifetimes to come, no one will ever be able to experience. We are all very lucky to have lived it and very lucky to have each other to run through the memories with. We need to keep the flame burning.
Andy "Bat" Adams
09/17/2008
But the most important factor of all of this is that we had each other. Mulitple age groups of children and adults melding together at times, unified in the feeling that we were all one family. We may not have realized it at the time but we were all part of a very special world that to this day and for lifetimes to come, no one will ever be able to experience. We are all very lucky to have lived it and very lucky to have each other to run through the memories with. We need to keep the flame burning.
Andy "Bat" Adams
09/17/2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
The Night The Park House Blew Up
It was a warm summer night not unlike all the others before it. We all gathered in the big park ready to spend our time together laughing and sharing stories about the day that had just passed. Something was different that night, the guys were in a funny mood. All the girls sat on the benches wondering what was up. When it became pretty dark, one by one the guys drifted over to the park house. What were they going to do now? We wouldn't dare go over there so we just hung out and talked. All of a sudden we heard the biggest boom and over by the park house it was lit up like the fourth of July. Fire crackers, cherry bombs and maybe an M80 or two brought half the people to the windows of the buildings facing the park.
All our wonderful guys took off running in every direction and left us there saying, "OMG, we're in trouble now." Off in the distance we could hear the distinct screaming of the police sirens and before any of us could react, the police officers from the 60th Precinct were upon us. I remember looking around the park and realizing the girls were the only ones there. Yup, it was the girls who took the brunt of their questions. We would never give you guys up and we never did. Cindy was so nervous she couldn't stop laughing. The officer turned to her and said, "How would you like for me to take you up to your parents and let them know what kind of guys you're all hanging out with?" She just kept laughing. I was quite sure we were all going to jail that night. It really just became another one of the thousands of memories born in that park. The memories I never want to forget. The guys and girls I never want to forget. Thanks to all of you.
Carrie Garguilo Oliva
09/16/2008
All our wonderful guys took off running in every direction and left us there saying, "OMG, we're in trouble now." Off in the distance we could hear the distinct screaming of the police sirens and before any of us could react, the police officers from the 60th Precinct were upon us. I remember looking around the park and realizing the girls were the only ones there. Yup, it was the girls who took the brunt of their questions. We would never give you guys up and we never did. Cindy was so nervous she couldn't stop laughing. The officer turned to her and said, "How would you like for me to take you up to your parents and let them know what kind of guys you're all hanging out with?" She just kept laughing. I was quite sure we were all going to jail that night. It really just became another one of the thousands of memories born in that park. The memories I never want to forget. The guys and girls I never want to forget. Thanks to all of you.
Carrie Garguilo Oliva
09/16/2008
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