Flo and I grew up in the same neighborhood. Although we didn’t know each other back then, Flo lived a few doors down from a childhood friend of mine.
So we decided to go for a drive to visit the old neighborhood.
First past the house that I grew up in. Not much of a change since my mother moved over twenty five years ago. The four- way stop signs were new but I doubt the crash I remember that put a car on the front lawn was the impetus.
Down the avenue past PS 115, where I went for kindergarten. The yard where we waited for the doors to open looked the same.
PS 172, Flo’s junior high school, with what looked like an outdoor seating area. And on past Flo’s childhood house, where we slowed down to admire the garden.
We drove down the main drag - Union Turnpike - and called out the stores that have long been replaced.
We came upon the synagogue where I attended services with my father and were happy to see that the stained glass window which our family had donated was still there.
The neighborhood has changed and yet, in our mind, the visible changes did not alter the neighborhood we knew.