I've copied your recent post to your User Page's Discussion (that's on this page, see below).
Your post has the makings for many individual pages. For example, the reference to Don Rickles raised a discrepancy between your recollection and a Wall Street Journal interview from 2015. At first I was inclined to take Rickles word for it. But then I realized that his rendition was funny and yours wasn't (no offense intended). Perhaps Mr. Rickles took the liberty of moving himself for career purposes, i.e., for comedic benefit.
Thanks for the contribution,
September 29, 2017 post
37th Avenue & the "OLD" neighborhood.
I came to Jackson Heights (East Elmhurst) in June of 1960. I lived "down the block" from where Don Rickles was born. I lived on 89th street between 31st and 32nd Avenues. 3119 and 3113 respectively.
I married in 1965 and moved to New jersey for 11 years BUT I came back!!
I remember(vaguely) where the New Synagogue is now on 77th & 37th, there used to be a little coffee house with a model train that ran along the ceiling.
I guess what I do remember best were the neighbors and the neighborhoods..Sometimes in the summer when it was really really hot the neighbors would stay on the stoops and porches (still there)hating to go on up the stairs because you could actually feel it getting hotter & hotter as you climbed up. A few evenings when it was REALLY hot we would sort of gather whatever we had cooked or baked and place long tables on the porches and do a street "pot luck, everyone sharing and talking long into the night. it was great back then. Every one knew every one and all knew whose children were whose and what they weren't supposed to do.
I remember being teased by older boys (one of whom became a fireman in the 82nd street house and another a policeman.) We hung by Sol's candy store on the southern corner of 89th and 31st avenue. He was a nice Jewish merchant who lived with his family in the back of the store. That strip of stores all had apartments in the rear. We were Jewish, and Christian, Polish, Italian, German, Irish, you name it we were. Most of all, we were friends and neighbors at a time when that truly meant something. My mother was "Aunt" Loretta to every child regardless of the fact she wasn't their "real" aunt. "Aunt" Loretta she was though..My thoughts just come running back but it's time to end this part of my "remembering". When I get a chance I can talk about Quonset huts and supermarkets and churches and stuff................More of the "Good Old Days" for me.................