(Author’s note: Took last week off due to the fires in Oregon. Back today. Enjoy!”)
Dance Hall Days
by Miles H. Rost
A staple of New York youth. A way for the kids of the neighborhood to have fun and forge long lasting friendships.
When us kids needed to hash out things, we didn’t take to our fists. We took to the sticks. Whoever ended up scoring the most, or when our moms called us in after the sun went down, they would carry the day.
Once we moved to the west coast, there was no more stickball. You moved up to the sandlots. The skills learned translated well for the batting, but the running killed us.
We were still friends.