Creative and reflective writing ~ by Jack Handey

Entertaining, creative and thoughtful ~ enjoyment reading:

"How the Neighborhood Has Changed" by Jack Handey

Illustration by Luci Gutiérrez

The New Yorker: Over there, in the basement of that building, there used to be a Mafia torture chamber. All night long, you’d hear yells and screams. Now it’s a bar catering to college students. On that corner, there was a junk yard. Old cars were torn to shreds, and the shreds were compacted into big blocks. Today, it’s an art gallery.

You used to see bums pushing grocery carts down the street all the time. And when you saw what was in a cart you’d think, Man, why is he keeping that? Today, there are lots of parents with strollers.

Over on the Hudson River, it was common to see mounds of worthless garbage go bobbing by. Now the river is full of kayakers.

The fish market is gone. And it’s no great loss. The fish were very skinny and had dead eyes. Today, it’s a modelling agency.

On the roof of that building there, an old man kept a bunch of pigeons. Today, the whole building is owned by Goldman Sachs.

Public urination, and even defecation, were common in that alleyway. Now it’s a dog run. That store used to be Madame Xeno’s Fortune-Telling Service, but it closed after the roof unexpectedly caved in.

There were lots of blaring sirens and loud motorcycles back in those days. Now there’s just a constant ringing noise.

You’re seeing bigger and bigger celebrities today. Years ago, I saw Paul McCartney walking down the street. Then I saw Sir Paul McCartney. And last week I saw King Paul McCartney.

Some things have stayed the same. The corner drugstore is still there, although it has since relocated to the middle of the block. Nazi Books is still open; old Gerhard still greets customers with a friendly “Heil Hitler.” 

Locals still flock to Daylight-Mugging Park, with its famous statue of Sir Arthur Daylight-Mugging. And Whappie’s still exists, although to this day no one knows what they sell or do.

But many places have succumbed to the wrecking ball, including, oddly enough, the local wrecking-ball company. People were horrified when the old Chesterton Hotel was torn down, because guests were still staying there at the time.

For the most part, the changes to the neighborhood have been for the better. Crime is down, even petty crime—at least, that’s what I read in my neighbor’s newspaper. In the old days, you always had to look over your shoulder, in case you were being followed by some nut. Today, you can look straight ahead, and maybe even call out to the person walking in front of you, asking him where he’s going and where he got that shirt.

But I do miss some things from before. The waitress at the café would call you “sugar” or “hon,” and the panhandler would call you “buddy.” Nowadays, I don’t think they even know your name. There are plenty of shops where you can buy a fancy, expensive cupcake, but where can you go in and have someone pull your hat down over your eyes?

One thing is certain: the neighborhood will continue to change. One day, far in the future, people will walk around with handheld “rain protectors.” Taxis will zoom down the streets at breathtaking speeds, using loud sonic blasters to clear other vehicles out of the way. Strange aliens from distant worlds, with differently shaped eyes and intelligence surpassing ours, may own and operate our corner bodegas*.

I hope I am around to see it. ♦

Jack Handey has contributed to The New Yorker since 1987.

*bodegas ~ botiques; wineries