“I remember when grandpa would take us to the pier that stuck way out in the water, he seemed to know everyone with a smile, there was always our spot waiting, he said he owned the spot, he taught us all about fishing and mostly that you don’t catch fish, but he always had a smile in his salt beard, and loved telling us stories about his time in the navy and all about the ocean, we didn’t mind hearing the same stories, we always got a nutty buddy or push pop or if we were really lucky a bomb pop! from the ice cream truck all the way over there, mom would always be mad because we got sunburn or forgot something on the pier, but with grandpa the world was like our carousel.”

(fictional, made up in my head when I saw the scene laid out before me, photos from the 69th street pier in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, Friday night, I was there again today… amazing place tucked in almost hidden right off a major highway and Brooklyn… seriously insane views of Manhattan which I will be posting soon)