The Hose

Evil

THE OFFICIAL PASTTIME OF SUMMER

There's a simple way to tell whether or not your neighborhood is keepin' it real: by the amount of stoop-sitting that takes place. I just moved and I've noticed that there's much stoop-sitting activity around me and I'm glad to see that. It reminds me of the old neighborhood, of growing up. The old neighborhood had lots of stoops and also lots of asses to sit on them. The asses mostly belonged to Colombian dads and moms. On summer evenings, my parents always liked to go for walks around the neighborhood -- mostly from our house to the elementary school and back. This was before everyone had cable and Xbox, so after-dinner family entertainment was decidedly low tech. I remember we would walk past house after house, decorated with sitters on their stoops. The kids of the family would be out front, kicking around a soccer ball. My dad liked to cheer, "Maradona! Maradona!" when he saw Colombian kids playing soccer. In retrospect, I don't know if that was a stupid thing to say or what because I wouldn't want no Colombian dude coming up to me and cheering "General Tso! General Tso!" I'm just glad no one ever got popped in the eye.

Anyway, my new neighborhood is kind of like the old neighborhood, except that most of the families here are black. Not much kicking around of soccer balls, but there is much grilling of meats on the street. On a random summer night, I see at least one active grill per block, you know, the ones that are huge half-spheres will three legs sticking out of them. Seeing this makes me want to get a grill. I swear I could eat grilled meats three times a day. But I'm hesitating on that decision because really, how sad would that look? Some random Chinese dude who is grilling all by himself. Most likely I will also be sobbing quietly to myself. Also likely, I will be wearing clown makeup.

I don't know. Maybe I'll get a grill anyway. I'm going to go think about it. Outside, sitting on the stoop.