I worked last evening in my neighborhood- I had to verify some information on some apartments a few blocks from my home, so I traveled on shanks' mare. The sun was going down over the ridge to the west, and a few jets were overhead, making their way from (most likely) LaGuardia Airport to foreign parts. I walked past the local middle school, where a couple of guys were playing catch on the baseball diamond, and a bunch of young men were slapping a hurley ball against the school wall... representing the ladies, a single camogie player was giving the lads a run for their money. As I approached my block, I ran into my co-workers ***REDACTED*** (who lives a block away) and ***REDACTED*** (who lives on the Bronx border, north of Van Cortlandt Park). We talked shop for a bit, then my co-worker ***REDACTED*** (who lives around the corner) pulled up and joined in the conversation. The project is drawing to a close, so we're probably going to hit one of the local gin mills after we turn our work in, and have a well-deserved beer together.
At one time, Yonkers was called "The City of Gracious Living", it has also been called "City of Hills, where nothing is on the level" and "The Y.O.". Me? I call it home.