tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845436933807383233.post2454563387900382339..comments2024-03-25T15:29:41.085-04:00Comments on Kensington Stories: A Glass of Frank's Wine in KensingtonRon Lopezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00013432967905835800noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845436933807383233.post-33343934056058960382010-09-14T19:42:54.432-04:002010-09-14T19:42:54.432-04:00You know, my Dad used to drink wine with Frank. I ...You know, my Dad used to drink wine with Frank. I loved and hated going in Franks house. I loved it because his wife was always cooking some good stuff and always made me sit and eat. I hated it because the backyard was always sooo dark, which was the reason I hated the o' callahans backyard. The apartment building next to the houses used to drown out any proof that the sun existed. I have good memories of that family. And ya know, my dad would give us a shot of homemade wine at dinner too. He said it was good for our blood. Hmmmmmmm. I was a very good sleeper.Eileen Wilsonnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5845436933807383233.post-32579586777327402312010-09-09T17:31:12.280-04:002010-09-09T17:31:12.280-04:00Good little story...I guess we all do things like ...Good little story...I guess we all do things like that from time to time. It's good that we can laugh at the whole thing as we remember it years later! I'm the guy from 323 E4th, my grandfather used to make wine in Bklyn, Sacket Street, back in the old days. Your right about the strength of it. As children we all got a small glass at dinner. I guess the adults figured that would make our bedtime come faster and it did indeed!Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com