Today I learned that Harold Schwocho, who lived across the street from my parents since the beginning of time, has died. I don't know his age; he was old when I was a kid, so if he wasn't in his 90s, he was darn near it. The news got me to thinking about growing up as I did, on a street where just about everyone knew everyone else, and the folks who lived there mostly stayed put. Without idealizing my childhood, I do recognize my good fortune in being part of a real neighborhood. Mr. Schwocho and everyone else on Oceana Avenue created a real sense of place and permanence. That's something I would want to give my kids, if I ever have any, and if it were something I could have any control over. I think everyone needs that sense of place. Especially children.
God rest you, Mr. Schwocho.
Monday, March 08, 2004
Sad Tidings
Posted by Dave at 9:23 PM
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