4th Street Projects: 5H

5 H was the place! It was my favorite place to be for many reasons. Mainly because it was pretty much the meeting place for all my cousins. It also was the place where my grandmother lived Mount Vernon was the City, New York was the State, and the 4th street projects was the domain. I felt the safest at my grandmother’s house in the projects. I lived in many places in my life with low crime. Although the projects could be dangerous, I felt safe at all times. I attribute that to my grandmother. I had many fights, but everyday life prepared me for those fights, so they were rarely faced with fear. I mean I fought because I was afraid, but I didn’t fear fighting. I feared being hurt. I feared my Parents, Grandparents, Aunts and Uncles, NOT my peers. I didn’t like fighting and I believe I cried during every fight I ever had! My grandmother was the nicest, meanest woman you ever could meet. Her nickname was “mad dog”. It is common for everyone in the projects to have a nickname and mad dog fit her perfectly. She was sweet until you provoked her. Then Lucifer herself would appear.

There are so many fond memories about my early childhood that were created in 5H or the projects. What I loved about the projects were the other kids. We played in the projects 10-30 deep often. Football, team tag, fence jumping and taps to name a few. Most of the boys could even jump double dutch. The one thing that I hated about the projects were the keep off the grass signs that were on all the areas where we could play but were not allowed to. I mean the playground was concrete and not the right place to play tackle football. We played there anyway and got chased off during the week by the grounds people. During the weekends no one was supervising the ground so all big games took place then. We all played until our parents screamed our names from the window. I never wanted to stay inside much. I was usually punished or the weather was bad for me not to be outside. I could throw the ball against the wall for hours making up some kind of game in my head.

Mad dog always had food, and was always down to play cards. She rarely played for free. I mean she would gamble. Numbers, cards, maybe even sports. She would even take the grandchildrens little bit of money. You know the change we found or the money our parents gave us to go to the store. I always had a dollar or more in change and she would take it gambling. To me there was nothing wrong with it. Now when I look back she would take my money then walk to the number store and play her numbers and buy me some penny candy. On occasion I would win. On those days I would go to one of the corner stores that had video games and play them. My uncle would come over with my grandmother’s friends and play cards and smoke cigarettes. Maybe even have a drink. I was not really aware of alcohol at the time so I am not sure if that took place or not. If it was one or two people and Mad dog, they would play in her room on the bed. If there were other non-family people at the apartment they would play at the kitchen area table or on a special occasion, she would pull out the nice living room holiday dinner table. The oversized table that was in the left corner of the living room taking up all the space. It had six chairs and only 3 had all 4 stable legs. The others were broken. The couch was covered in plastic and there was a huge floor model tv in there with a small tv on top. The small one was the one that worked. I think that was a staple in poor black homes in the 70’s and early 80’s. I was really good at Gin Rummy and other card games. I still love cards and would play for hours if given the chance. I have just given you a brief overview of Bertha AKA Mad dog. She has an entire book that I will be working on when the time is right.

When you are a child you do not realize how fortunate you are to have grandparents. People who have lived several generations and that have watched the world evolve in person have so much real life knowledge. When my grandmother passed a decade and a half ago there were so many questions I had. Many of them about her childhood. Now I have to rely on other people to get those answers. What I do know was that I loved this woman. I had a healthy fear of her. She was a strong, independent black woman of steel!

Bertha, Granny, Grandma. I miss you and love you!

Thanks for reading

Your Friend Wakime