" The Old Neighborhood"

     Recently I attended a reunion of the neighborhood where I grew up.  There were quite a few people there and we all had one thing in common, the little area called 49th St.  I often wonder why the neighborhood was called 49th St., most of the people lived on 50th or 51st or Kershaw or Thompson Streets and many other streets. Hardly anyone lived on 49th St. Yet when asked where you came from, the answer was 49th St.  The neighborhood consisted mostly of people of Italian and Irish descent. It had two schools and two churches, one for Irish and one for Italians, I often laugh when I think about it because we were all catholic and the schools we attended practiced segregation.  You had to be at least half of one nationality to attend school.
     The neighborhood had a whole cast of characters, with fantastic nicknames, there was Slasher, Breezy, Bizza, Ballots, Tony Feathers, Tree Tops, Flutes, Flubby and many more. It was a working class neighborhood, where most of  the men were in the
building trades.  We did have our neighborhood grocery stores and shoemaker and drug store, so you really didn't have to go to far to get most things that you needed.
     Many in the neighborhood were from big families, there were quite a few second, third and fourth cousins. Some were related and even spelled their last name differently.
     While at the reunion, we talked about old times and all the different things that went on.  Even though we were all of different ages, you knew how the stories would end because someone in your family was there at the time or knew what transpired. There was a sense of one big family growing up in the 49th St. area.  No matter where or when you were involved in things, your parents would find out after you were corrected by one of the neighbors. There was no escaping, everyone knew your family.
     I have many fond memories of the neighborhood, the Carnival every spring, going in the fire plug in summer, Friday night block party dances, pretzels and water ice, or playing cards while "hangin" on the corner. My most fond memory is coming home from church on Sunday morning and smelling the homemade "gravy" and meatballs or sausage being cooked in the homes.
     Eventually as we got older we moved from the neighborhood, but it always has stayed with me. I cherish the memories I have from that time and I have not forgotten them. When someone asked where I am from I tell them "from 49th St. a small close knit neighborhood in West Phila.