from Neighborhood to 'Nam......and back.

Growing up in a close knit neighborhood during the ‘50s and ‘60s was not unusual, it was the norm. Friendships were long and the bonds were tight. Friends walked to school together; joined scouts together; played sports together; grew up together. They dated and married girls from the neighborhood. . .And, most of them went to war together, not as a group, but as single individuals….and those same friends parted ways for a time. Each moving on to a new phase of their life.

The neighborhood was ‘Kaisertown’, a Polish-American community on the far east side of Buffalo New York. . .the war was Vietnam.

This blog is a collaboration of stories and experiences from this group of men, childhood buddies, all now in their sixties, whose friendships have lasted a lifetime.

These are also recollections from those young men who stayed behind. . ’caretakers’, as you will, of the old neighborhood that was a part of them . . .keeping the memories alive until all returned.

5.20.2011

Ralph. . .a.k.a: Rotten

During the 1960’s, summer weekends in Kaisertown were either spent on a date, playing sports, or hanging out with your friends at Wiechec’s Tavern, the favorite local watering hole.  On this particular warm, sunny day just prior to the 4th of July, a group of us were doing just that, hanging out. . .having a few beers and more than likely talking about getting drafted or joining up. But the conversation soon turned to the type of fireworks that we’d buy from our neighborhood ’contact’, who, if I remember correctly, lived on Pontiac Street.  That must have triggered something off in Rotten’s mind because he decided that we needed to celebrate the ‘4th’ with a little noise, not to mention the fact that he was in possession of a few ‘M-80s’. 
 
What happened next is one of those ‘lessons’ you tell your kids never to do.  Rotten lit the M-80 while still inside the bar, with the intention of throwing it out into the street.  He ran to the door and pushed it open...only to find out at that point that you had to PULL the door open. . .little to say, he just wasn’t quick enough...the M-80 went off in his hand...Rotten yelled, ”OH SHIT”, as the tip of his finger was blown off.  Of course you know that we were all laughing hysterically as we ran to him to see if we could help.  The bartender gave us a towel, we wrapped his hand, and were off to the emergency room.  At the emergency room, we were worried about what would happen to all of us for having illegal fireworks. . .and of course what was going to happen to Rottens’ hand and finger.  We considered just leaving him there, but how could we do that to a buddy?

The emergency staff asked a lot of questions regarding how this ’accident’ happened. . .Rotten was on his own at that point.  They stitched him up, minus one fingertip, and he was no worse for wear...then we headed back to Wiechec’s to finish our warm beers, and something new to talk about.
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