We lived in New York, in the suburbs, but we used to ‘go to the city’ often. For dinner, to shop, or to go to a museum. One of the most memorable ‘sights’ my mother would take us to was The Tombs.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Tombs is the colloquial name for the Manhattan Detention Complex (formerly the Bernard B. Kerik Complex), a jail in Lower Manhattan at 125 White Street, as well as the popular name of a series of preceding downtown jails, the first of which was built in 1838 in the Egyptian Revival style of architecture.
As we would stand on the sidewalk and look up at the tall building, the female inmates would yell down from the high windows. I’m sure they were yelling obscenities but I don’t recall what was said, or even if you could understand what they were saying.
I don’t know why my mother brought us there.
But I do remember how it made me feel. I felt sorry for the poor women locked up. I never thought about what they had done to be put there. And I’m not sure if sympathy was my mother’s intent. (Although, whenever I killed an ant or spider she used to say,”Awww, now his poor wife and children will wonder what happened to him when he doesn’t come home tonight.” So maybe it was empathy she was trying to instill in us.)
Kind of a strange memory.