The 80's

The 80's in New York City was a Riot of color and sound. 

Bold bright neon colors and metal piercings,

new age pop, goth, rock and MTV.

Graffiti lined the streets and subway cars,

telling stories, marking territories, beautifying with color

what the city left drab and lifeless.

"Material Girls" walked around doing their best Madonna imitations,

while boys strutted in "Miami Vice" jackets, wife beaters or school uniforms,

piercings and tattoos temporarily hidden.

Jordache, Lee, Adidas and Pumas, "Bomber jackets" and "TROOP" jackets

coveted items often stollen following a beat down

despite the urban legend that TROOP stood for "Total Rule Over Oppressed People"

regardless of size.

The air was permeated oddly with both promise 

and the stale smell of dirty water dogs, weed, crack and Drakar.

There was a magic to the city then,

when synchronicity would have you head out on your own, only to be well met by a group of friends in

 Thompsons Park, Washington Square Park or Sheep's Meadow. 

Landmarks were our beacons,

phonebooths our haven from the rain.

We saw people shine brightly, boldly letting their colors show

and embraced gayly for their courage in doing it.

Teen nights at the clubs and sweaty dance battles with late night recuperations at the Round the Clock

Cafe, Pizzeria Uno's or Micky D's. 

where first dates were often had by,

nervous teens using their parent's credit cards for the first time,

when summers felt like they lasted forever,

and the threat of growing up seemed farther away than we wanted, 

and closer than we were prepared for. 

Filthy and Inoculated

Under multicolored skies

and the city's daily serenade of sirens, curses and breaks,

children played,

with wanton sense of adventure that comes with longer days and warmer nights.

Street laps barking alarms to go home,

were ignored.

Butterflies, fire flies and green breezes were received with delight and wonder

as nature wafted hints of other worlds before our senses. 

We were starved for nature but not curiosity.

Hopscotching over cracks,

we wondered at those who grew up with green lawns and extra curricular activities

while we build hide outs in vacant lots from pieces of broken fridges, cars and three legged grocery carts.

But while they had lemonade and pools,

we had piraguas with coconut water and liberated fire hydrants;

where they had soccer and football fields, 

we had bottle cap soccer, handball, street rules football and basket ball in drug addled parks

There were no bike lanes.

Ingenuity and self preservation were the skills we learned.

There were no bucolic seating areas for us.

The city was our dangerous playground,

where the herd was culled daily

We didn't climb trees, but some did tied sneakers onto street lamps.

We explored abandoned buildings

in lieu of school dances with chaperones

we gave birth to instant street parties

with boom boxes and Abuelita's chicken and rice.

We came home filthy and inoculated and oddly satisfied.

We made the best of our communities, despite the powers that be. 

Latchkey Kids

What did we want, you ask?
What did we dream of as children growing up in grey cities surrounded
by broken concrete and broken people?
 
We dreamed of peace
open areas with green grass and climbable trees
starry nights
clean air
adventure
freedom.
 
Latchkey kids dreamed of having their own bedrooms
privacy to expand
of making tents and having sleep overs,
functioning air conditioning,
treehouses and field trips,
and the serenity and security needed to flourish;
and yet, like weeds
so often dismissed as worthless
those who survived, thrived
to dream dreams of providing these things and more for their children.
 
Those with siblings had tailor made best friends and nemeses
die-hard besties, covering each other’s stories,
as they snuck out windows, climbed down rusted fire escapes
to attend midnight public school yard raves with boom boxes and Calvin Coolers, underage clubs or basement hot box parties with dubbed tapes, mojta and pubescent grinding,
alternate outfit, cash and knives in hand.
Using the “new tech” of multi line phone calls to pretend we were at a friend’s house.
Sneaking back in without making a sound
Master Gen X Urban Ninja moves.
 
The City was our playground
Soho was an abandoned part of the city with its own unique architecture,
where we imagined we lived amongst castles.
The FDR, East River and Battery Park, jungles of sand, abandoned cars, dimly light streets and empty buildings used by ravers, squatters and drug addicts.
We built our forts in abandoned lots with discarded furniture, wood pallets and tarps, doing our best to sweep away used needles and other urban offal.
The City was divided into territories with their own rules
Heroin ally, 10^th Street Weed Corner, Uptown, “Crookland”, “LES”, “The Boogey Down”, where having friends who lived there gave you a pass, to go through, hopefully, without getting jumped.  
We learned early, where and when we could explore,
before they were gentrified and sanctioned gangs in blue took over.
 
But now?
we are the ones raising a generation so lost in their social media
Committed and convinced that thru half-assed effort
they’ll become "virtual" somebodies of significance
money growing from virtual trees paid for by virtual entitled spendthrifts
they don't know... how much more trapped they are now,
then we were then.
 
At the least we can say,
we Lived,
we Explored, and had the
Wildest Dystopian Adventures
 
Without the distractions of “gotcha” moments of
Today’s social media.
 
Ahh ha, we won!
 
Love Gen X, the Latchkey, Escape Artist,
Mentalist, fully inoculated, highly political, Woke
Chill AF but We Can love you and Cut You
Generation