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We lived in NYC in Manhattan on 130 something street, in a three-story brownstone that housed many of my relatives. At this time I was not yet five years old. When we lived in this neighborhood I had not yet started school and I started kindergarten at five. By the time I went to school we had moved to another neighborhood.
On the corner of 130 something and Amsterdam was a combination Pharmacy and Soda Fountain store. Mister owned it.
He was a Jewish man and could not get my immature tongue around his name so I just called him Mister.
The building my family lived in was on the same side of the street, three buildings east of Amsterdam that ran north and south. Mister was a dapper little old man maybe in his late sixties. In the winter his uniform at the pharmacy besides his white pharmacy overcoat was a flannel checkered shirt, with matching vest, tie, slacks and well polished penny loafers in black or brown depending on the color combination of the day. He had beautiful skin, with rosy cheeks, blue eyes, rimless round bifocal spectacles, resting on the tip of his nose. He smelled like Allspice. The top of his head was shiny and bald with a pure white fringe of abundant shiny hair around the sides of his head. He also had beautiful white teeth. Today, I wonder if the teeth were false. He always had a big smile and a warm welcoming handshake for anyone who came into his store.
