Good Old Hood
A tribute to the Eastside clan.
Remembering back on my block, our friendships were some kinda special. Parents and kids alike played in the streets together. Friendly softball games in the fields by our homes taught us to appreciate the art of sportsmanship, friendships, and we kids never felt left alone. We were all birds of a feather, as our lives were the proof of true family ties.
Playing tag in the creeks all the hours of the day, as time passed us by ever so peacefully, and we ran in a loyal pack. My friend’s parents—felt much like my own. I spent night after night sleeping at their most welcomed abodes. I shall always appreciate having such love in my life.
Growing up in my old hood was a lifetime of laughters, happiness known, and our hearts fulfilled a promise to always cherish those respects earned. I miss the good old days hanging about town with friends in parking lots, cruising around all night long, and we definitely made a history that will never be forgotten.
These were the best of days, and I would not trade a single moment for all the riches in the world. As I reminisce about growing up on my block, so do I understand exactly how lucky that I am for such a life. A place in my heart is a rightful home, as I trust that you shall all feel comfy forevermore. With this love, I do adore.
— R. E. Maynard