Thursday, October 16, 2008

Dreaming Florida Steet. F.S.P.

I grew up next to Florida Street and next to Templeton St. It is said that they changed the name of Templeton to change the reputation. They changed it to Monsignor Lydon way. Is that Catholic? So much for the reputation.
On Florida Street there were these apartment buildings and there was always a lot of crazy shit going on there. People would put their stereo in the window and blast N.W.A. out onto the street at like Midnight, on a Tuesday! Low riders with "local motion" stickers and purple lights shining on the ground would cruise around blaring Latin music at like 2 am. Dogs roamed free without leashes and crapped on the sidewalks. Up the street was the endless Dorchester Ave, with the Irish bar on every corner, liquor stores in between, scattered Chinese take-out restaurants, pizza shops, and Catholic churches. Kids were everyhere.
Back to Florida street
When I was like 10 years old I got "jumped" right out in front. 3 kids came out of nowhere and grabbed me. 2 held me and one punched me in the stomach. I have no memory as to why this happened. Perhaps it was because I lived 20 yards away and I wasn't from the same building. I don't know. I struggled free and ran away. Next thing I know my aunt is in the building with my mother banging on the door of this kids apartment. The woman let them in and my aunt scared the shit out of her. Family.
Last night I had a dream that I was walking through the Florida street apartment buildings and they were very nice and clean. They were now Luxury condo's with "green" energy. The people had little dogs on leashes and they picked up their crap. There were no children anywhere. They were graduates of nice colleges with high paying jobs. They used phrases like "thats ghetto" when refering to saltine crackers. They drove mini coopers and hybrid cars and saw "films". They raised eyebrows at Boston accents and exchanged nervous looks between eachother when amongst a "local". They put up "Resident Permit" parking signs so you could only park there with a special sticker and they called the police when the music was too loud.
I kept thinking about how much I missed the way it used to be. I guess sometimes things change for the better or for the worse.
Then again, it was only a dream. . .

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