Three stories about my only child: clear channel to God, as with all kids: When my wife and I got married, our first apartment was on the Grand Concourse in the Bronx, a street once...

Dr.Dross

When my wife and I got married, our first apartment was on the Grand Concourse in the Bronx, a street once compared to the Champs-Elysées in Paris and Fifth Avenue in Manhattan. By 1970, it was faded glory. But the buildings still held some of their old elegance and spaciousness. We loved our place. Yet by 1976, the neighborhood had been overrun by the tide of the South Bronx poverty. The nearby playground was littered by glass, inhabited by drug dealers, and all the equipment was in ruins. Crime was increasing. We decided to move.

Both my wife and I grew up in a privately owned housing project called Parkchester in the central Bronx. It was idyllic. A number of books about this social phenomenon of an inner-city environment have been written and many sociology classes spend some time in studying it. Met Life, who owned it, spared no expense it trying to make it the best place in the world to live. And by my memory, it was. A recreation Department staffed the ten playgrounds, six basketball courts, and three ball-fields, having daily arts and crafts, organized sports and pageants. A well-manned and trained private security department. A maintenance crew that kept the buildings spotless and the abundant expanses of green grass and trees properly landscaped. Most of the inhabitants were second-generation Irish, Italian, Jews, and European. Kids were everywhere.

1) Before we moved, after our application had been accepted, I took our five year old daughter to visit her new neighborhood. We went to what is nicknamed the "baby playground" in the North quadrant, because there was a larger one just to the west. She came running over to me to say that she had made a new friend at the Monkey Bars. There were about twelve children scampering around them. "Which one?" I asked. "The boy with blue pants," she answered: there were eight of those. I asked what color jacket he had. She answered red. Now we were down to three. "Can you point him out?" I asked. She got excited then. "Yes," she said, "he's at the top now!" He was the only Black child.

2) Maybe an hour later I was carrying her in my arms and heading for the car when I asked her how she liked this place. She got very serious and twisted back and forth in my arms to look around and I almost dropped her. Then she suddenly stopped and looked up in the sky. She stared for a moment and then looked me in the eye with this lovely smile. "It's the same sun, daddy."

3) A month after we moved in, we were out to dinner with family; always interesting. There was my dad, my older brother, his wife and two children (the youngest just two weeks older than mine), and my two younger siblings. We went to this favorite local place that served great steaks and Italian food. The vegetable that night was lima beans; thanks to me, my daughter had never seen a lima bean. Half-way through the meal I am clearly getting the look-messages from both my dad and older brother that Jenny is not eating her vegetables. Bad example. This will not do. We are cultured. So finally I feel compelled to say to my daughter, "Honey, try your vegetables." She tells she doesn't like them. I say with perfect adult logic, "How do you know you don't like them if you haven't tried them?" Like a perfect aristocrat, she dabs her lips with a napkin, gently puts her fork and knife on her plate, turns to look me in the eye and says, "Daddy, why would I try something I don't like." Even my father had to laugh at that.

And that's why I am an Independent.

archie bunker Loc: Texas

Dr.Dross wrote:

When my wife and I got married, our first apartment was on the Grand Concourse in the Bronx, a street once compared to the Champs-Elysées in Paris and Fifth Avenue in Manhattan. By 1970, it was faded glory. But the buildings still held some of their old elegance and spaciousness. We loved our place. Yet by 1976, the neighborhood had been overrun by the tide of the South Bronx poverty. The nearby playground was littered by glass, inhabited by drug dealers, and all the equipment was in ruins. Crime was increasing. We decided to move.

Both my wife and I grew up in a privately owned housing project called Parkchester in the central Bronx. It was idyllic. A number of books about this social phenomenon of an inner-city environment have been written and many sociology classes spend some time in studying it. Met Life, who owned it, spared no expense it trying to make it the best place in the world to live. And by my memory, it was. A recreation Department staffed the ten playgrounds, six basketball courts, and three ball-fields, having daily arts and crafts, organized sports and pageants. A well-manned and trained private security department. A maintenance crew that kept the buildings spotless and the abundant expanses of green grass and trees properly landscaped. Most of the inhabitants were second-generation Irish, Italian, Jews, and European. Kids were everywhere.

1) Before we moved, after our application had been accepted, I took our five year old daughter to visit her new neighborhood. We went to what is nicknamed the "baby playground" in the North quadrant, because there was a larger one just to the west. She came running over to me to say that she had made a new friend at the Monkey Bars. There were about twelve children scampering around them. "Which one?" I asked. "The boy with blue pants," she answered: there were eight of those. I asked what color jacket he had. She answered red. Now we were down to three. "Can you point him out?" I asked. She got excited then. "Yes," she said, "he's at the top now!" He was the only Black child.

2) Maybe an hour later I was carrying her in my arms and heading for the car when I asked her how she liked this place. She got very serious and twisted back and forth in my arms to look around and I almost dropped her. Then she suddenly stopped and looked up in the sky. She stared for a moment and then looked me in the eye with this lovely smile. "It's the same sun, daddy."

3) A month after we moved in, we were out to dinner with family; always interesting. There was my dad, my older brother, his wife and two children (the youngest just two weeks older than mine), and my two younger siblings. We went to this favorite local place that served great steaks and Italian food. The vegetable that night was lima beans; thanks to me, my daughter had never seen a lima bean. Half-way through the meal I am clearly getting the look-messages from both my dad and older brother that Jenny is not eating her vegetables. Bad example. This will not do. We are cultured. So finally I feel compelled to say to my daughter, "Honey, try your vegetables." She tells she doesn't like them. I say with perfect adult logic, "How do you know you don't like them if you haven't tried them?" Like a perfect aristocrat, she dabs her lips with a napkin, gently puts her fork and knife on her plate, turns to look me in the eye and says, "Daddy, why would I try something I don't like." Even my father had to laugh at that.

And that's why I am an Independent.

When my wife and I got married, our first apartmen... (show quote)

Did you ever take her fishing?

Dr.Dross

archie bunker wrote:

Did you ever take her fishing?

Yes, for small-mouth bass on a Connecticut lake. We had the use of my parent's cottage and rowboat (a skiff, really). She wailed when she saw the hook sticking through the lip of her two ounce catch. So we stopped fishing and rowed out to Blueberry Island to relax and gather berries. Typical liberal.

archie bunker Loc: Texas

Dr.Dross wrote:

Yes, for small-mouth bass on a Connecticut lake. We had the use of my parent's cottage and rowboat. She wailed when she saw the hook sticking through the lip of her two ounce catch. So we stopped fishing and rowed out to Blueberry Island to relax and gather berries. Typical liberal.

Horseback riding, sleeping under the stars? Catching night crawlers, caterpillars, help a momma cow birth her calf?

Dr.Dross

archie bunker wrote:

Horseback riding, sleeping under the stars? Catching night crawlers, caterpillars, help a momma cow birth her calf?

And what does that mean? If you want to denigrate me and my daughter just spit it out. We grew up in the city. You seem to suggest a superior way to live, which incidentally indicts how I raised my daughter. No, she never helped a "momma cow" give birth to a calf. Never caught a night crawler (we bought our bait of night crawlers at Skinners). We are just vile city folk, sorry,

archie bunker Loc: Texas

Dr.Dross wrote:

And what does that mean? If you want to denigrate me and my daughter just spit it out. We grew up in the city. You seem to suggest a superior way to live, which incidentally indicts how I raised my daughter. No, she never helped a "momma cow" give birth to a calf. Never caught a night crawler (we bought our bait of night crawlers at Skinners). We are just vile city folk, sorry,

Not denigrating anything at all. People have different experiences raising their children. Damn! You gotta make a fight out of everything don't you?

Dr.Dross

archie bunker wrote:

Not denigrating anything at all. People have different experiences raising their children. Damn! You gotta make a fight out of everything don't you?

Not going to fall for your innocent act. Be honest, please. Why post what you did about country life? Why not comment on the innocent sweetness of my daughter's comments, which you totally ignored to talk about momma cows and finding night crawlers? It seems you are being dishonest here. Do not like liberals being human, having families, and good children? Try to make them look foolish compared to god-fearing, holy, momma cow birthing saints?

Dr.Dross

Many of you on the Right appear to have no soul. Money, not people, matter. It is very tiring. I continue to be naive enough that good sense will prevail. It hasn't. Not that there was any productive discussion only insults and now an attack on my family. I open up and get vulnerable--and you insult. Fine. See your Order of Decency: hate the Left.

archie bunker Loc: Texas

Dr.Dross wrote:

Many of you on the Right appear to have no soul. Money, not people, matter. It is very tiring. I continue to be naive enough that good sense will prevail. It hasn't. Not that there was any productive discussion only insults and now an attack on my family. I open up and get vulnerable--and you insult. Fine. See your Order of Decency: hate the Left.

Gimme a fking break! Anything not in lockstep with your desired response is considered an attack by you. You must be one miserable person!

Dr.Dross

archie bunker wrote:

Gimme a fking break! Anything not in lockstep with your desired response is considered an attack by you. You must be one miserable person!

Fine, be dishonest. No problem. But can you explain your response: "Horseback riding, sleeping under the stars? Catching night crawlers, caterpillars, help a momma cow birth her calf?" What are you questioning? What is there to question? Not a single allusion to my post. Ignoring the topic entirely to post: "Horseback riding, sleeping under the stars? Catching night crawlers, caterpillars, help a momma cow birth her calf?" Is it lockstep to expect a response to the topic? When you wholly disregard the topic to post "Horseback riding, sleeping under the stars? Catching night crawlers, caterpillars, help a momma cow birth her calf?" as somehow significant to my thread, what does that mean?

Dr.Dross

My fault. My bad. My mistake. I will no longer be open about my life. I was naive. Poke all the fun or attacks you want. No lockstep insults or freelancing ones are taboo. Go for it! Have fun.

archie bunker Loc: Texas

Dr.Dross wrote:

Fine, be dishonest. No problem. But can you explai... (show quote)

Asking about things you might have done with your daughter is dishonest? You had no problem with fishing did you? WTF?
OH!! I'm sorry! I guess I forgot to gush all over about how cute it is that she doesn't like lima beans? My apologies!

archie bunker Loc: Texas

Dr.Dross wrote:

My fault. My bad. My mistake. I will no longer be open about my life. I was naive. Poke all the fun or attacks you want. No lockstep insults or freelancing ones are taboo. Go for it! Have fun.

You are one weird S.O.B.

pafret Loc: Northeast

Dr.Dross wrote:

When my wife and I got married, our first apartment was on the Grand Concourse in the Bronx, a street once compared to the Champs-Elysées in Paris and Fifth Avenue in Manhattan. By 1970, it was faded glory. But the buildings still held some of their old elegance and spaciousness. We loved our place. Yet by 1976, the neighborhood had been overrun by the tide of the South Bronx poverty. The nearby playground was littered by glass, inhabited by drug dealers, and all the equipment was in ruins. Crime was increasing. We decided to move.

Both my wife and I grew up in a privately owned housing project called Parkchester in the central Bronx. It was idyllic. A number of books about this social phenomenon of an inner-city environment have been written and many sociology classes spend some time in studying it. Met Life, who owned it, spared no expense it trying to make it the best place in the world to live. And by my memory, it was. A recreation Department staffed the ten playgrounds, six basketball courts, and three ball-fields, having daily arts and crafts, organized sports and pageants. A well-manned and trained private security department. A maintenance crew that kept the buildings spotless and the abundant expanses of green grass and trees properly landscaped. Most of the inhabitants were second-generation Irish, Italian, Jews, and European. Kids were everywhere.

1) Before we moved, after our application had been accepted, I took our five year old daughter to visit her new neighborhood. We went to what is nicknamed the "baby playground" in the North quadrant, because there was a larger one just to the west. She came running over to me to say that she had made a new friend at the Monkey Bars. There were about twelve children scampering around them. "Which one?" I asked. "The boy with blue pants," she answered: there were eight of those. I asked what color jacket he had. She answered red. Now we were down to three. "Can you point him out?" I asked. She got excited then. "Yes," she said, "he's at the top now!" He was the only Black child.

2) Maybe an hour later I was carrying her in my arms and heading for the car when I asked her how she liked this place. She got very serious and twisted back and forth in my arms to look around and I almost dropped her. Then she suddenly stopped and looked up in the sky. She stared for a moment and then looked me in the eye with this lovely smile. "It's the same sun, daddy."

3) A month after we moved in, we were out to dinner with family; always interesting. There was my dad, my older brother, his wife and two children (the youngest just two weeks older than mine), and my two younger siblings. We went to this favorite local place that served great steaks and Italian food. The vegetable that night was lima beans; thanks to me, my daughter had never seen a lima bean. Half-way through the meal I am clearly getting the look-messages from both my dad and older brother that Jenny is not eating her vegetables. Bad example. This will not do. We are cultured. So finally I feel compelled to say to my daughter, "Honey, try your vegetables." She tells she doesn't like them. I say with perfect adult logic, "How do you know you don't like them if you haven't tried them?" Like a perfect aristocrat, she dabs her lips with a napkin, gently puts her fork and knife on her plate, turns to look me in the eye and says, "Daddy, why would I try something I don't like." Even my father had to laugh at that.

And that's why I am an Independent.

When my wife and I got married, our first apartmen... (show quote)

I remember my first visit to the Bronx, sometime in 1947 or 1948. I was dragged along by my mother when our church sponsored a trip to some religious shrine there. I was astounded by the width of the streets, my home town had the standard asphalt two lanes with both sides parking on the better streets, descending to cobble stone, one and a half-laners elsewhere. The Bronx was an eye opener. Six lanes and eight lanes of traffic on a city street, -- with an island in the middle in case you couldn't cross in one light. Sidewalks that were almost as wide as some of my hometown streets. Truly amazing, and the cars, I started counting and soon gave up because it was like a torrent of metal pouring past. Street vendors everywhere, hawking all kinds of food, who scurried like weasels to hide when the police came around because none of them were licensed.

The west side highway was still intact back then and Italians lived in Little Italy down around Canal Street and Arthur Avenue. That too was amazing, so many cars they had to stack the roads two high.

alabuck Loc: Tennessee

DrDross,
As one of the "resident liberals" on on here, I've come to be able to see when Archie is being his "anti-liberal self," as to when he's asking a sincere question with no politics included. From reading y'all's exchange, above, I feel compelled to interject that, from my experience with Archie, this is one of those times when he was simply asking if you'd taken her horseback riding, catching night-crawlers, camping, etc. I do believe that you jumped to the wrong conclusion regarding Archie's question.

That you took it to think he was trying to insult you, I think is because of previous personal attacks on your politics. I, too, have had my political differences with Archie, but, outside of politics, I think he's a really decent guy. He's simply, how can I say this,... "different," politically, as are most all of the conservative on here. LOL. Irrespective of our politics, actually, most folks on here are decent folks. Take politics away and I'd say, I could/would be good friends with about 90% of the people on here. That includes Archie, too.

There are a few on here whose throat I wouldn't piss down if their guts were on fire, because of how they've treated me, and others, plus for the crass language they enjoy using, 100% of the time. Those few are "lost causes" who have no desire to debate or exchange ideas in a meaningful and respectful way. They only exist to insult, demean and foster lies, bigotry and innuendo, regarding anyone they disagree with. Those few couldn't care less about what truth is. If it doesn't match with their prejudices, the truth can't be truth; even if it was spoken by Jesus, Himself. I've come to the conclusion that most of them most be the members of the 10's of thousands of Russian trolls who are paid to spread fake news and lies. After you've Ben on here for as long as I have, you'll learn which ones I'm talking about.