stoops

In Wisconsin, most people have a yard. A lack of the space constraints inherent in big cities allows people to spread out.

There are no brownstones and very few townhouses in the state. In my hometown, new neighborhoods are built atop old farm fields. Development occurs on massive tracts of land.

When people want to get rid of their old and no-longer-needed junk in Wisconsin, they hold yard sales, garage sales and (my favorite) thrift sales.

Advertised through the classified section of the local paper and colorful signs placed strategically around town, these thrift sales can make an impressive amount of money for families with an excess of stuff. My mom has held thrift sales netting thousands of dollars

New York, with its huge population and finite amount of space, breeds a different culture of frugality. Here, there are stoop sales.

That's right. Stoop sales.

Not to be confused with Soupy Sales.

And if people just want their old stuff gone, no money attached, they put it out on their stoop. Usually, the offending items will disappear quickly. In an attempt to lighten my load before heading back to Wisconsin, I've left unwanted clothes and other assorted things on our stoop, and passersby have taken everything.

Stoops are also a common gathering-place for many in this borough. Families sit on their stoops, beer in hands, joking loudly with neighbors on hot nights. Children play shyly with their toys, their stoop and sidewalk substituting for a front yard. My heart, accustomed to a childhood of playing on green grassy lawns, aches for them.

Hey Arnold!, one of my favorite TV shows on Nickelodeon in the 1990s, even had a character based around stoops. Behold: Stoop Kid.

"Stoop Kid's afraid to leave his stoop! Stoop Kid's afraid to leave his stoop!"

Stoop Kid was a nasty older kid who tormented Arnold and his pals. The catch? Just the thought of leaving his stoop sent Stoop Kid into a panicked frenzy.

Me and my stoop: best friends for life.

Though I've seen some strange things from my stoop, (including the hysterical aftermath of the holdup at the deli next door and a man flying a kite with a fishing rod) I'm still not afraid to leave it. There's too much to do and see!