Late August, 1969, my Aunt Joan went into labor. I bet Tommy Smith a quarter it would be a girl while we sat on his 516 East 82nd Street frying in the mid day 94 degree heat. "Want to go to the pool?" Smitty suggested.
"Nah, I don't have a bathing suit." I was too lazy to walk one block to my grandmother's to get one also knowing I'd probably be ordered to go to three stores.
"I'll give you my father's?" Smitty offered. Since I was loopy from the heat, I said yes. Sonny Smith, Tommy's father weighed north of 225 I was 150 when I was 15. (the day before I was weighed at tackle football practice with the OLGC Rams). Sonny's boxer trunks could of doubled as surrender bloomers for my big grandmother.
Smitty & Ray Bellinger
After we put our sneakers and junk into the wire baskets and got our wrist bands, I ran outside to a blast of heat and jumped in the John Jay water holding the suit up with both hands. The material came up all around me like a science fiction sized jelly fish. I didn't care, the zipper was broken and that became my main concern. I spent my pool time juggling: holding my trunks up and keeping my stuff locked up. I won a quarter though.
Joan holding Chris after baptism
Joan had a girl, Christine. Uncle Mommy was her Godmother, and I'm her Godfather.
Uncle Mommy, Chris & me
Happy Birthday, Christine!
Check out my New York City memoir, "I Hate the Dallas Cowboys - tales of a scrappy New York boyhood." Available at Logos Book Store and online at Amazon or Barnes and Noble. The book has 127 Amazon five star reviews out of 127 total reviews posted. We're pitching a perfect game. My old world echoes TV's "The Wonder Years" ~ just add taverns, subways and Checker cabs.