The Woods

In the dark, far reaches of Queens County, NY, there existed for a brief time, a land of mystery, solitude and exploration; seemingly known by only a few, fortunate teens and pre-teens. It was a wild, exciting and almost dangerous place one could trek through, finding adventure, escape and freedom from an ordered concrete existence.

“The Woods” were a two acre stand of gnarly trees and weeds in the far reaches of Queens. This neglected patch of nature had been seemingly left out by builders and developers, as they carved up the area called Bayside to build houses and shopping centers. It most likely does not exist today, as every square inch of real estate is eventually monetized in large cities like New York. But. it was a haven, a playground and a connection with nature that we knew immediately was very special. I lived in Astoria, a part of Queens that had long since surrendered its last gasps of nature to concrete and steel. But, my cousin, Roseann, lived in Bayside, a then newly expanding section of Queens, near the Nassau border.

Your cousin is usually your first best-friend, and therefore will generally remain your friend and confidante for all of your days. I would occasionally stay a week or so with my mom’s sister’s family, during the summer months and it was always a treat. Different surroundings,, slightly different Italian foods, same grouchy father whom you tried to avoid, and secret adventures galore! Part of just about everyday would include a visit the “The Woods”. There, in this private wonderland, we practiced our nature skills by sitting on a log and throwing stones at another log. We honed our investigative powers by examining objects that were left by other strange visitors: empty beer cans, a glove, or a piece of torn newspaper. We perfected our smoking style with cigarettes stolen from the afore-mentioned grouchy fathers. We imagined we were surrounded by dangerous jungle beast, and planned defenses and escapes. And when a scary looking adult male appeared ne day, we practiced our getaway skills. (Picture the Three Stooges running away at the end of every episode.)

Best of all, it was somewhere to sit in a secret, private place and trade stories and knowledge with your very first friend. Oh, how I wish that every child could have a place like that, to walk and talk and grow up in; and a friend to help explore and explain the challenging complexities of being 12 years old.