Written by Dennis Harvell
The Brooklyn Light: The Park, the song, and the Safety
“…there were moments of softness too, moments that belonged only to my mother and me. She would take me to the park on warm afternoons, settling me beside her with a box of Cracker Jacks while the neighborhood radios played the soundtrack of the era.”
“…I was so young then, small enough that the world felt enormous, but old enough to remember the sweetness of those days.“
“…I can still hear Stevie Wonder’s voice floating through the air — “My Cherie Amour” drifting from a distant speaker as kids ran past and the sun warmed the metal of the swings. “
“My mother held my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, her thumb brushing my knuckles in a quiet rhythm of reassurance.”
Excerpt from my memoir: The Hand I Refused To Play, Chapter 3 “The Brooklyn Light“.
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