When I was a kid, there were railroad tracks not to far from my home. Come Spring, you would see all the old Italian women down by the tracks picking all the wild mint. Sometimes they would get into a fight because one was getting all the big leaves. And if they weren't picking the mint, then they were out picking dandelion greens from someones yard. Sometimes I felt like I was living in Sicily. The first Italian word I learned was 'butana.' It took a while before I knew what it meant, but I knew it wasn't good. It means whore. You could hear the women screaming that at the other women who were taking all the mint. The police tried to keep them out of the rail yard. Freight trains were traveling through there all day. They could get hit with a train. But they would pretend they didn't understand English. Finally the cop would give up and leave. That mint was priceless and precious to them. It is all gone now. Now there is a YMCA and a big beautiful green park. And they will soon be building a new Public Library in that area.
The YMCA is open until 11 at night. They have an extensive child care program, an after school program, help for homework, and a bunch of other programs for the community.
Illegitimi non carborundum!
I don't want my last words to be, "I wish I had spent more time doing housework"