Time warp

As the Italian neighborhood of Belmont continues to shrink and become less and less Italian, it is good to see that some traditions continue, even if with another ethnicity.

A few weeks ago we went on one of our usual Sunday photo shoots. Another of our many trips to Arthur Ave. This was the first neighborhood I knew as a child. Now Sundays are pretty quiet on the street with few stores opened and parking no problem. There was a time when the street was busy on Sundays, people leaving church gathered on the street to chat. Cars doubled parked as someone hopped out of the car, to get in line in one of the many pastry shops to buy dessert for the weekly Sunday family dinner. "I'll just be a minute" was the catch phrase as streets were reduced to one lane obstacle courses. Of course they were never a minute, but never mind we understood the drill and waited patiently in line for cannoli and other old world creamy goodies. White box, tied with candy cane colored string, we could hardly get through the antipasti, macaroni with meatballs, sausage, pork as we knew the miniature pastries put an exclamation point on a great tradition.

This Sunday in 2013 was quiet except for a crowd that had gathered in front of Mt. Carmel Church on 187th. There was a Mr. Softee truck camped outside, he obviously knew something special was happening. In observance of the location, the usual Softee rhythm was not playing. In the distance, coming up 187 was a procession led by alter boys, a cross held high and a priest in white robes. He was followed by a group of children, all 6-7 dressed in white, it was First Communion.
J had hit pay dirt and started to snap away. As they approached the church we saw the smiles on the faces of their young families. Infants with bows in their hair, young mothers dressed for church to be followed by clubbing. Stacked heels, short tight dresses, tattoos and lots of flower bouquets. Wonderful photos, a happy day, children in communion dresses with ice cream cones purchased from the man in the truck window, Mr. Softee. We were both softees for this scene, tradition, regardless of the language and ethnicity, continues and gives us hope despite all that goes on in the world.

I had J take a photo of a young boy in a suit standing next to his classmate in a white dress. I have another photo of a couple, the woman in white, on the same steps  taken 73 years ago. It is of  my parents posing for their wedding photo.