MACK - New Yawk City

 I returned to my hometown this past week to see my older brother. He turned 80 this year and had a massive fall tripping on his dog fence. Broken hip, pelvic area, knuckle, and toes while landing first on his skull. Permanently crippled and mentally impaired.  Ya know, like a Jets fan.

For a number of reasons, I haven't traveled to da city for over 30 years.  Most reasons these years is because I too longer can walk past 20 steps at a time. Legs just don't work anymore. Ya know, like country star Alan Jackson.

However, it took only one phone call with him while he spent six months in a rehab facility that I realized I needed to travel to check in on him. My daughter accompanied me to help me walk and booked the trip right away.

We landed after long takeoff and landing delays at JFK. There even was a delay parking the jet. Welcome home Mack.

Ya know when you know you're in New York?

It's when the guy that meets you with a wheelchair is standing just outside the airplane door and he runs you at around 30mph up the ramp to the lobby. Savannah? Slow and steady. New York? Fast and Furious.

The highlight of the Uber trip to Little Neck was the driver having phone sex with his girlfriend with me and my daughter sitting in the back seat. No shit. Even watching her live nude video while gridlocked on the Van Wyck. Ya know, like the old peep shows on 8th Avenue.

Saturday was, well, nostalgic. 

My daughter and I borrowed my brother's car and headed out to where I grew up. We took the roundabout way on purpose,  landing on Woodhaven Boulevard,  heading towards Howard Beach where we ate lunch in the Madison Squar Garden of Italian restaurants... Lenny's Clam Bar. We ate alongside Italian-Americans in their natural habitat. 

Top necks on the half shell... scungilli... baked clams.. we don't need no stinkin pasta. Just bring on the bait.

Then on to a local pizzeria for a slice followed by crumb cake and Italian cookies at a local bakery. No lard in this stuff. Only Italian love.

We headed north and turned right on Liberty Avenue. Rounding the local roads, we wound up at 106-14 95th Avenue,  in Ozone Park. 

This was the home I grew up in. Surprisingly,  still in good shape and had same stoop I would play stoopball on for hours. 

Eventually we brought the doggy bags back to my brother's house and we and my sister Pat pigged out all night, watching Cocaine Bear. Might of hung out with a couple of them back in the day.

I'll tell ya this about Queens. We never saw one pile of garbage, one homeless person, one sketchy dude, or even one rude person. Tons of family orientated family types of all nationalities going on their business.  It told me one thing. All the bad you hear about in cities like this one are isolated events. In other words, fuck the cable commentators.

That was Saturday. Sunday was the day  would say goodbye to the only brother I ever had. Oh, we all said we would do this again next year, but we all know, at both our ages, that might never come to be. 

Bob Ade is my older brother.

We had a challenged childhood, if you considered having your mother die when you were in the first grade and your father drink himself to death when we were teens a challenge.

We had no time to get close. We had grow up fast and move away.

We both graduated high school at 16. He went to night school for 10 years at Queens College.  I joined the Air Force and eventually became a radio time salesman.

He went on to making 100 New York lawyers happy at a top law firm and I became an owner of radio stations.

We only missed on one thing. A childhood.

Age takes so much away from you, both physically and mentally,  but it also brings you peace and wisdom.  After all my habits, I never thought I would live this long, no less eat salty clams with my daughter at Lenny's Clam Bar.  A father's dream.

I am so happy I did this trip for so many reasons. It wasn't just the scungilli. 

I hope I didn't bore you here by not mentioning the Mets at... oops... Der it is.

Back to baseball...