Saturday, January 24, 2009

woodside revisited

it's amazing how looking through the viewfinder of a camera allows you to view your neighborhood in a completely different way.


Anonymous Devyn said...

Ohhh, I very much like the first shot!

January 24, 2009 4:23 PM  
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December 23, 2009 3:27 PM  
Anonymous sibelius said...

Small town with nice architecture. I love it.

March 18, 2010 12:40 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Firstly, your photography is wonderful. The first photo must be 41st Drive. My grandfather bought the house at 58-36 before it was built.His family (which includes my father) used to travel to Woodside(from Hell's Kitchen-where my family has lived since the 1840s) to see how the building was progressing. It was completed in 1924. My father recalls empty lots with goats grazing there! My grandmother passed away in the house (from old age at 97.) This was the last house to use coal...the coal company told them that they would not deliver to only one family! During Prohibition the family went up to Ellensville, NY to beat the city heat. However, my grandfather shut up all the windows in the Woodside house and when he arrived home the bottles' corks had popped and hit the ceiling (he had made "bathtub gin." My mother and father were visiting and were snowed in for two full weeks in the Blizzard of 1947. men had to use shovels to tunnel out of the little street. Some of the drifts reached the second story window! In the late 1960s the street was closed off for a block grandmother and uncle sat outside and had a wonderful grandmother told my father that she had a beer (something she hadn't had in years (she was born in 1876 and enjoyed a Manhattan with her son every night before dinner!
My uncle lived there alone until his death in 1985. I am now 61 and remember my wooden playpen set up there in 1950. I carry these memories in my heart and share them with your readers who enjoy history.

September 06, 2010 11:41 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

PS: Me again, I remembered some more 41st Drive family history. My grandfather passed away in his 50s 1929 (the three sons quick school and got various jobs and were able to make the mortgage payments during the Great Depression.) My grandfather's casket was in the "parlor" of the father recalls that it was a hot night and he could hear the ice melting and dripping into the tin placed underneath. If houses could talk!

September 06, 2010 11:54 PM  

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