My father loved watching the basketball players on 4th street. He'd take me with him, particularly on Saturday mornings. He'd watch the games, leaving me to the various and sundry park denizens.
New York was considerably more dangerous in the 1960s than it is today, making his an apparently foolish choice.
Nonetheless, every Saturday (other days too) the four year old me would chatter and play with middle aged homeless men.
Oddly enough,he was(and is) a fairly suspicious person, and yet -! He trusted that his child would be safe left to play with bums, and he was right.
1 comment:
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