How does one make a scroll?
a scroll of memories?
I remember when I was the height of my mother’s hip
I enjoyed our visits to the meat market
maybe because the panoramic window into the world
of all types of raw flesh was in perfect view.
Or because sliding through saw dust with sounds of a high pitch blade
cutting meat vibrating through my ears brought me joy.
Seems like we would be in there for hours.

The meat market on Franklin between President and Union is probably one of the oldest store fronts right along with Associated, it was Key Food before that…I don’t think it’s true that they didn’t think we were worthy of organic foods back then, it’s just a matter of supply and demand, Mike used to order cases of Eden Soy Milk in the blue container for me back in 1998. I would buy all of them. I don’t consume soy anymore.

Change is occurring at every moment.
In the midst of change, what is important to remember?

I remember when I didn’t walk past Franklin and Eastern Parkway
towards Atlantic unless I really had to…fear

I remember playing outside until the street lights came on, we made games out of every and anything…joy

I remember when most of the store fronts on the block were owned by community members, Rob’s Sweet Shop, Hills, Nino’s, the Drug Store, it was good then until …crack
and then, remember when they shot Mr. Murray from the Photo Studio right in front of the pizza shop?

I’ve walked these blocks the most during my existence.
What does it mean to walk the same pavement, cross the same streets, see change, I went to junior high school with her, and elementary school with him, it’s so sad that her daughter was murdered, she was a friend, she was so young…unreal

Carrol Street…my young sons loved to watch the shuttle train go by on that small bridge, the conductor would see their little faces pressed against the gate, the sound of his horn would vibrate into bursts of laughter throughout their little bodies…they’ve grown.

Who remembers? what remembers?
the trees, the buildings, still the same, new names, new structures – or not so new, but layered memories, sounds, thoughts, what do we remember? Change is constant.