Why A Blog Now???!!!

TREASURED EXPERIENCES

I consider myself privileged to have had my childhood in a loving, nurturing environment.  Now in the early part of my eighth decade of life (can it be???), my youthful experiences still resonate in my memory and act as a scaffold for the way I think and act.  They bring me comfort and joy and I am honored to share them with you.

THE EARLY DAYS

In those pre-internet years of the late 1940's and 1950's, besides going to school, the main childhood activity was PLAY, and play we did...having friends up and down our neighborhood streets with whom I'd play football in the street, putting on plays, making an empty lot into a fortress for our "Rusty Raiders" (yes, that's what we called ourselves!), and playing Ringolevio into the late hours of a summer evening.  The latter was a variant of Tag, originating in the late 19th century on the teeming streets of New York, apparently having been brought over from the British Isles.  It had two teams of equal number with two jails in which you'd "imprison" your opponents until they were freed by one of their teammates. Other games we played were hopscotch, "war" played with a jackknife thrown into the grown and marking off territory, and, my favorite Fall game where you'd take a newly fallen chestnut and put a shoelace through it.  You'd then try to crack your opponent's chestnut to win.  I later found out it was started in Britain and Ireland and was called "Conkers"!  We were all tired kids at the end of a long day of hard play!  Every parent on the street was your parent, so you had the comfort (or discomfort), of knowing that you were always being safely watched over.

Ringolevio!!!

a hopscotch court chalked onto the sidewalk

Chestnut wars or "Conkers"

My first bike was an old used one my dad had picked up, red complete with rust, but it served its purpose, allowing me to become quite adept at bike riding after incurring numerous scrapes and bruises on the hard macadam of the nearby school playground.  I'm sure you all remember that thrill and sense of accomplishment when your dad or mom is running along the side of the bike,,,and suddenly you are on your own, solo!  I soon graduated to a brand new 3-speed "English racer", a red Robin Hood that was made by Raleigh.

A red Robin Hood 3-speed just like I had

Still today, I ride a Raleigh handed up to me by my son, Marc, who had won it in a raffle sponsored by a cider-maker in a pub located in his college dorm in Toronto.  I am fortunate to live in a community with bike lanes and paths that go along the Erie Canal and up to Lake Ontario and I love to go for  long treks with some of my buddies who recognize the need to stay active!

By no means was I a "good boy".  I did have a temper and the object of my consternation was usually my older sister, Lois.  To this day, she reminds me of my evil deeds such as taking all the knives from the kitchen and throwing them at her or stuffing her into our big toy box and sitting on top of it!  Apparently, my dad had to drill holes in the box so that she'd be able to breathe the next time it happened.  Lois, on her part would pinch me and pull my hair if I didn't obey her beck and call..  Fortunately, I have matured and my anger today is usually safely channeled into my well-known political rants and essays and letters to the Editor...and Lois and I are still good friends.

Big Sister watching over me!

Mom, me and Lois (the flower girl), all set for Uncle Sy and Aunt Bernice's wedding

I attended Brownie meetings and dance classes, being dragged along as the little brother to Lois, having to sit and watch their goings-on.  I remember sitting in Grace Liccione's Dance studio, watching all these little girls doing their plie's and pirouettes hoping to become prima ballerinas.  One of the girls in the class was actually a television star!  Our favorite TV program back then was "I Remember Mama" and the girl who played little Dagmar week after week was Robin Morgan...and there she was, dancing along with my sister!  Today, she's a poet, author and political activist.

"I Remember Mama" with little Robin Morgan in the middle as "Dagmar"

My dad's office was in Harlem in the 1950's, a community rich with African-American culture.  It was there that I first heard strains of Black Gospel music coming out of the open doors of Black churches on those days that we had no child care and I'd go to work with Dad.  To this day, I still love this genre and, as recently as this past summer, attended a wonderful concert put on by the African-American Young Artists of the Glimmerglass Festival in Cooperstown.

Harlem, 1950's

My parents would also take me to the annual concert put on by Louis Armstrong in our town, whetting my appetite for more jazz over the years.  There were also the concerts of the Westchester Philharmonic that we subscribed to and where I cut my teeth on a lifelong love of classical music, seeing the great artists of their time like Arthur Rubenstein, David Oistrakh, and many others perform.  It was on that same stage, as a high school student, that I got to sing in a chorus backing Metropolitan Opera diva, Licia Albanese two years in a row doing "La Traviata" and "Aida".  I got to learn a lot of Italian as an added bonus!

Louis Armstrong

Licia Albanese

Back then, every little boy joined Cub Scouts and I was no exception... Pack 31 at the Graham School
with its field trips, Blue and Gold spaghetti dinners, and the monthly pack meeting.  Field trips were memorable.  One was to the old Mitchell Air Base as well as Floyd Bennett Field, one of which today is a gigantic shopping mall.  They had old Link Trainers that they used to train WW II pilots to "fly blind".  They put each one of us in a trainer and, in pitch darkness, we were given the ride of our lives!  Another trip was to the old Brooklyn Navy Yard when, indeed, it was actually a naval base.  We boarded the Aircraft Carrier USS Saratoga, the largest carrier of its time with a deck as long as several football fields.  I got my first leadership experience, being selected as "Denner" for my Den.  I worked through Wolf, Bear, and Lion Badges all the way up to Webelos before entering a fairly short-lived career as a Boy Scout.  Boy Scouts, led by Mr. Dorsey, took us winter camping to the Berkshires where we froze our toes and learned to make Bisquick Blueberry muffins in tin-foil over an open fire.  We also did some Fall camping across the Hudson at the foot of the Palisades, having taken the old Yonkers Ferry across.  Yet another field trip took me back to the Brooklyn Navy Yard.  Our Assistant Scoutmaster was Michael Cohen who, at the time was a young US Navy Ensign.  He invited us on board the USS Lake Champlain, another carrier where we had lunch, cookies and ice cream in the Officer's Mess.  I worked my way up to Second Class Scout with two Merit Badges, Rowing and First Aid, but not without spending a summer at the Boy Scout Camp in Copake, NY, Camp Waubeeka.

Link Trainer

USS Lake Champlain

It was at Waubeeka that we had to have postcards to our families as a "ticket" to eat dinner.  I was assigned to the Mohawks, made up of Mt. Vernon scouts, fighting color wars with scouts from other Westchester locales.  It was there, over a card game with scouts from the gilded and restricted community of Bronxville, that I first experienced anti-semitic comments.  When I announced that I was a Jew, they told me I was lying because I didn't look like one!  Some things you never forget.
I think shortly after, I left the Boy Scouts.

I think the one thing I learned during those years was tolerance for people who didn't look like me, learning to cherish tolerance and pluralism.  In the '50's, I never knew about Gay people until one day, walking in Provincetown, Mass. with my parents, two men passed us holding hands.  My parents explained to me that they were a couple who were "queer" (I don't think the word "Gay" had come into use at that time).  I then learned that the tall, rugged Randolph Scott-look-alike named Russ down the street from us was also gay.  The guys who played football in front of his house, including me, didn't really care...we were more interested in the cool convertible he drove! He was very kind to us and once even brought us out lemonade.

Childhood is a time, yes, for play, but it is even more a time for learning...not just the education you get in school, but from the many rich experiences childhood brings...forging the person you become.

NEXT: SCHOOL DAYS!