Our world has gotten so confusing. Sometimes I feel like someone took the earth and turned it upside down.
I am not saying it was right or wrong but in my mind it was simpler and easier when I was a child.
On summer days you played outside. No hanging in the house watching TV or playing video games.
You went and as my Mom said “go call for a friend.” Most neighborhood kids were home except for those lucky enough to go on a two week vacation.
When we lived in the Bronx, just about everyone stayed home. Once we moved to Pearl River, we were like most others and went to the Jersey Shore for two weeks and when we finally moved up the waiting list, joined the Pearl River Swim Club.
Back in the Bronx, there was jump rope, roller skating, stick ball and a myriad of other games that we played for hours on end. Some nights, we would be out until the street lights came on. Then inside where you hoped the box fan in the window might cool you off or else you would spend the night flipping your pillow to the cool side.
A cold supper was not unusual. Various salads and cold cuts served in order to not heat up the kitchen using the stove.
I remember my Dad using the grill and how great the smell of whatever he was cooking would permeate the apartment in which we lived for about seven years.
Adults were addressed and Mr. and Mrs. or if they were closer friends Aunt and Uncle.
We didn’t act up because some parent was usually watching and would report any negative activity to our parents. We were raised by a neighborhood.
I could hear my Mom talking to the neighbor next door as they both hung their laundry on the clothes line.
We had a charge account at the local deli on the corner. The owners knew on payday Dad would come by to pay the bill.My older brother had a job there working on weekends. He was only 12. He also worked at the Bronx Zoo where the kids who should up earliest got to work that day.
On Saturday nights either dad would walk to a near by candy store and pick up “The Night Owl” edition of the Sunday Daily News. Or sometimes he would send one of us kids to get the paper and ice cream. There would be a list of what each person wanted. Freida from the candy store would heap several scoops of ice cream on a sugar cone and wrap paper around it. Then the race was on to get it home before they really started melting. No dawdling for sure!
One the 4th of July, someone on the block usually had fireworks which we would watch go off from a distance.
It all seemed so simple.
Dad’s worked a job or two. Mom’s took care of the kids, the cooking and the house.
There were trips to the Bronx Zoo on free entry day. There was ice skating on twin ponds/lakes with a bridge you would skate under which was free. Sometimes it was a trip to Bear Mountain to watch the ski jumpers. At the end of the school year was an annual school/family trip up the Hudson to Bear Mountain for a day outdoors. As we cruised up the Hudson, we passed row after row of retired war ships, called the mothball fleet. Those ships sat there between 1946-1971 (for you history buffs google Mothball Fleet along the Hudson River).
You will notice I have not used the word electronics except once so far. We used our imagination.
We also appreciated the cool water from an open fire hydrant running across our legs and we sat in the street.
Sitting on the stoop watching the older boys vs the Dad’s in a game of stickball in the evening.
Boredom didn’t seem to be an issue. And we were grateful for everything.
We were not entitled or privileged or spoiled.
We were raised to know we were owed NOTHING.
We had to earn it. Nothing was going to be handed to us.
And no one questioned it.
There were no participation awards. If you won, you won….it was that simple.
And the last thing you would ever want to do was embarrass your parents with poor decisions, unacceptable behavior.
If you broke a window, there was the walk with dad to the neighbors house to discuss the matter and how the repair would be paid for. No Mom or Dad not making their kids accountable for their mistakes.
I look at younger people now and wonder what happened? Is it that they never went without? Is it that their parents made them think they were due everything? Is the generation of participation awards used to being recognized for just showing up?
I grew up really understanding the meaning of a buck, of respect, of work ethic and understanding life is not always fair. You grew up with a tougher skin. No snowflakes in sight.
I know I may be looking back on that time with rose colored glasses but I can honestly say, I feel lucky that I grew up when I did.
We did not have a lot monetarily or what the world would consider signs of success but we were rich in our family experience.
I feel bad for some of the kids of today for they will never know the joy of a penny candy or the family saving money to do something special like go to the drive-in theatre or deciding what to buy at the redemption center with the books of green stamps or plaid stamps or laying down and enjoying the smell of fresh line dried sheets at the end of a day.
We were poorer but so much richer.
See you next week!
