mattpat’s from long beach, i wonder if he’ll chime in…

i was in long beach quite a lot somewhat recently. when my grandpa was sick, he was staying there and i’d go visit regularly. i pass Park St/Avenue quite a bit, but didn’t see these places. i still think about the excellent bagels and hot chocolate i got at the place across from the nursing home.

a guitar player i played with in high school lived right by Park and my mom’s best friend is over there, too. i used to drink beer w/ my buddies over on Laurelton. shhh! ; )

this guy Tito cut my brothers hair when we were real little. it was by my grandma’s house in Woodmere. when i was old enough to go to the “barber,” Tito was the guy. he cut my ear – accidentally, of course – but that was IT for me. one and done. buh-bye. we then went to Teddy over in Cedarhurst, by my other grandparents. (this is all a whopping 5-minute radius. at most.) we were there for most of childhood and yeah, it was always uncomfortable.

as i got older – late high school/early college – my mom and i went to a guy named Bob over in Hewlett. nice guy. but by this time, my hair was halfway down my back and there wasn’t much he could do. i’d get my bangs cut, but by junior year of college (19 years old), i let them grow out. haven’t seen a barber since! : )

my best friend growing up was a girl and she’d trim my hair when the ends got dead, but that was it. now, my hair is thisclose from reaching my waist. i need to chop off about 6 inches and will do so myself in the next month or two.

as i like to say: “hair is meant to be long, otherwise it wouldn’t grow!” : )

excuse me, while i go make a grilled cheese sanwich…!

Man, I love grilled cheese. Thanks for this Greg!

I had similar experiences growing up on the North Shore. In the black and white memories of the early sixties I recall dripping chocolate ice cream cones mixed with the smells of perm chemicals and hairspray. I heard a word that I didn’t understand…fagala. I hated going, but liked the ice cream.

I also recall as a teenager going to the hip and happening Peter’s Place in Roslyn, where hippies settled down and got their hair styled. It was next to a great head shop/bootleg record store called somthing basement. I can’t recall exactly.

Then we would congregate at the Roslyn Duck Pond, and do the things that teenagers did in the early seventies. It was fun, and we survived.