Every year in May, usually around Mother's Day weekend, the Perry Street Block Association holds its Perry Paraphernalia Street Fair. For two short blocks between 7th Avenue and Bleecker Street, many residents (-and some vendors) rent a spot on the street to sell their wares. Usually this amounts to the gifts that one can't regift, old clothes, toys and some collectibles. Often what was bought last year at the fair can be seen offered up by the neighbor who took it off your hands.
As long as we lived on Perry Street we participated. At first it was exciting because we had a lot of good stuff. But as the years went by I just wanted to get rid of the excess and not hold if for a whole year so it could be sold at the fair - or not.
Ken has been a champ. Every year, come hell or high water he has participated and drafted everyone in the family, including my mother, to help sell the unsellable.
It only stand to reason that once we moved to Tel Aviv we would start to jettison our winter clothes and start to accumulate new stuff.
Now the time has come to start our own street fair. We are seasoned. We have to stuff to get rid of. And it is May. Ken and Isaac are bravely manning the tables on Shabazi.
In Hebrew, our little set up in the courtyard is called שוק הפשפשים (flea market). We have precious little to sell, save a lot of English textbooks and murder mysteries. No one wants the old clothes, just like no one wanted them in New York. But it is comforting to know that some traditions survive a change in country, in climate and in character.
Miss our Perry Street neighbors but luckily we have some customers.