Have you ever yearned for the good old days? I’m not talking about taking personal inventory, that’s a subjective question. On our journey through life we get to where we are by our actions and reactions—and if we don’t like the road we are on, the smart thing to do is to change direction. We have a choice.
That being said, what I’m referring to is a time when life was simpler. I am a transplanted North Forker who has grown deep roots into this community. Lucky me: I am thriving in my “paradise found.” However, those who are native North Forkers have shared their stories about the “good old days” where the pace was gentler, traffic was a non-issue and life seemed easier.
When I was a kid growing up on Staten Island, life was indeed simpler—until “the bridge.” Native Staten Islanders will agree there is an invisible line of demarcation: B.B. – before the bridge; A.B.—after the bridge. Similarly, native North Forkers have the same mindset – B.D.—before the developers and A.D.-after the developers.
Living on Staten Island back then, was akin to living on the North Fork. The area was rural with winding country roads dotted with vegetable stands that were chuck-full of local produce. (Perhaps some unconscious yearning for “back then” makes me feel at home here. I’ll not tackle that new insight right now.)
We kept our doors unlocked and there was no need for an alarm system. Mom would send me to Joe’s, the local grocery store, with a list. Joe would pull the groceries and sundries (some of the sundries were embarrassing to a 13- year old) off the shelves, bag them and send me home with a bill.
My favorite chore was to go to Cappy’s the local pharmacy. “Doc,” the pharmacist, would dispense medicine along with great advice. I remember when my younger sister was ill with a fever, our family doctor made a house call at 2 a.m. He phoned Doc at his home to call in a prescription. Doc opened his pharmacy, filled said prescription and delivered it to our home in the wee hours of the morning. Imagine?
Cappy’s was a mini CVS. OK, I am a tad addicted to CVS, especially the skin care and beauty aisles. Hmm. Perhaps my obsession with the beauty aisle at CVS had its roots at Cappy’s. Another insight!
Twice a week The Entenmann’s truck would pull up in front of our house and Benny would deliver fresh baked goodies. Farmer Bob, the vegetable man, would come by on Fridays; we also had a milk and egg man.
Port Richmond was the place to shop. Gathering from what I’ve heard, it was probably comparable to downtown Riverhead in its heyday. Perhaps a mile long, Mom and Pop stores lined both sides of the street. It boasted of a movie theatre, two ice cream parlors, and real Italian pizzerias.
Port Richmond was transformed into a magical town during the Christmas holidays. Twinkling lights adorned the shop windows and multicolor lights were strung across the road. Santa was on every corner. I wondered about the multiple Santa’s, but Dad said they were Santa’s helpers. I trusted and believed Dad, however, in retrospect this may be the origin of me being somewhat gullible, so says a friend. (I prefer to believe that I am trusting, but that’s for another column.)
The Drive-in movie was popular on date night. I spurned many a dates advances sitting in the front seat; plus it was uncomfortable trying to maneuver, between the clutch and steering wheel. Besides, I wasn’t a back seat girl, if you get my drift. But I do remember a few hot “lip locks” with some cute guys.
Staten Island was a place unto itself and hard to access except by ferry. When Verrazano Narrows Bridge opened linking Staten Island to Brooklyn it became accessible—and a way of life slowly disappeared. Developers descended like vultures and raped the land. The farms perished, the drive-in-move was demolished, a mall was built and Port Richmond fell into ruin. “File cabinet houses” were built on postage stamp lots. Taxes increased while services decreased. Local government was ineffective blaming the other party for the unholy mess.
Sound familiar?
I recently read that BookHampton is struggling to keeps its doors open and is asking folks in the community to buy a book. An avid reader, I can spend hours in a bookstore, however, I feel guilty even writing this; I finally gave in and bought a Kindle. Sure, it’s fast and easy, but I do miss the feel of the book in my hand. In reality, my hand-held device cannot match the sustaining joy that a book brings.
It seems like the deck is stacked against independent small businesses that are struggling to survive. They simply cannot complete against the big box stores and many were forced to close their doors. On the brighter side, some Mom and Pops, in order to compete, elected to conduct their business online and have the ability to reach a larger consumer base. Some have become more independent than ever — and good for them.
We live in such a fast-paced society, that we don’t even stop and sit long enough to enjoy a cup of coffee. Instead, we run (literally) into a 7-Eleven for a jolt of caffeine. I love small intimate coffee shops were one can get a great sandwich and grab some good conversation. They are still around, but you have to hunt them down.
Personally, the big box hardware stores scare the bejeebers out of me. I mean, really, it’s not like going to a shoe store! I never can find what I am looking for — and when I do, there are too many choices. I am not saying the employees in their aprons aren’t helpful— but then again, try to find one.
I probably pay a little more at my local hardware store; but I get more bang for my buck. Individualized attention is the draw. On a first-name basis with the owners, they were extremely helpful during last winter’s endless snow storm. I was told how and when to use salt on my driveway. Best of all, the owner carried the bags of salt out to my car and said “drive carefully.”
Recently, I was wondering if I needed new porch furniture. I went to the local store where I originally purchased the set. The owner, instead of pressuring me to buy new furniture, advised me on how to revitalize the chairs. He even offered to stop by and take a look at them!
The proliferation of big box stores is a sign of progress — and I’m not bashing progress. However, I can’t help but feel we have lost something that is irreplaceable. When I drive along Route 58, or any Main Street in America, (they all look alike) I swallow hard to hold back that “they paved paradise and put up a parking lot” feeling. It almost seems the change from the Mom and Pops to the big box stores happened over night.
But it didn’t.
Let’s have the courage to take a good hard look into the mirror of truth. We had a choice! It happened when we stopped patronizing them. Like the comic strip character Pogo exclaimed: “We have met the enemy and he is us.”
Celia Iannelli is a native New Yorker enjoying a second career — in ‘retirement’ — as a freelance writer. She lives in Jamesport.
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