Tag Archives: reminiscence

Part 301: →Husband Journey: Love Letters

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    This post has taken me months to form. Let’s start here, it’s as good a place as any. Picture my closet as a small room, a walk-in. (It didn’t look like this, but it was close). A room with 3 ½ walls. A room with two upper shelves which were packed with boxes: Robert put them there. Over the years he crammed in more and more and I wasn’t sure what was happening: he was impinging on my shoe territory. I gave up asking him to move the stuff to the basement. He feared the possibility that these … Continue reading →

What My Step-Mother-In-Law Left Me

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My (step) mother-in-law and I had a lovely friendship. She passed away around 2005. Her son and his wife cleared out her apartment as soon as they could. They took art, furniture, a baby grand, mementoes, books, you name it: everything ended up in their home. But, I got what I wanted: the Portmeirion planter I had given her from a 1977 trip to Wales, and the lonely forgotten plants on her windowsill. Previously, when my in-laws lived in their home, they had an incredibly beautiful, possibly Peruvian or Ecuadorian clay pot purchased duringIt was large and sat in its … Continue reading →

Homage to Hammer’s Dairy Restaurant

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    So many of our memories involve food and this one is no different. This is Steven Hammer, my classmate, a sweet little second grader with red hair. His dad was Bill Hammer, and the Hammer family owned Hammer’s, the dairy restaurant at 243 East 14th Street, off Second Avenue. I don’t think we were in any other classes together, having consulted my stack of class photos, but for some reason, I remember his face so clearly, a seven year old. It was 1955-1956. The class was taught by a wonderful teacher, Mrs. Marion Oppenheimer, who later left to … Continue reading →

How One Store Can Bring Back Your Childhood

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  I am the admin for a 1200+ member group on Facebook; we are a group of reminiscers of the place where we grew up. Stuyvesant Town. A development, a community, built by The Metropolitan Life Insurance Company in the late 1940s, built for the WWII veterans who came home to a housing shortage. So, I am one of 1200+ kids who were lucky enough to have grown up there, despite its faults, and I could name a few, (you might just have to read my book), but for now  I will only share the magic of remembrance, the goodness … Continue reading →

Sex and Power. Don’t Blame The Victim

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  Folks, we are living in strange times. Actually, all times have been strange since the very beginning, but the fact that we are living in these times make this our strange reality. Let me take you back to the 1960s. I graduated from high school in 1966. The times they were a-changing. It was about twenty short years since a horrific war. Some of us went home after school to a Betty Crocker existence. Some went home to an empty house and wore keys on strings around our necks because our mothers had to work. Some of us went on … Continue reading →

92: Mother-Daughter Journey: Finding Your Mother

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Taken at The Green-Wood Cemetery, Brooklyn, NY   As you know, I have been blogging about my mother for a number of years. In over ninety posts I have spoken about our relationship, the aging-journey, the observations and most of all my fears, perhaps selfish, as I internalize what I see and feel about my mother and her slow departure: she is now ninety-nine. I don’t want to become my mother. But, I had another “mother” and I miss her: she was my colleague, Sylvia. Sylvia was the school psychologist on our three-person team who was the queen of evaluations. … Continue reading →

Goodbye to Al

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    This past Sunday I attended a memorial service for a lovely friend of the family. He passed peacefully in March and had reached the age of 95. He had a broker pack him up, sell his apartment and he moved to an assisted living facility in Connecticut near his sister. I sens that he sensed the end was near. He was a brilliant, kind and gentle man who was active in the New York State Teachers’ Union. He was a high school teacher and held degrees in business.   You can read more about Al here, as well … Continue reading →

So Long, Farewell … From Winky Dink to Tron and Beyond

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  This RCA television was a professional model and purchased in 1980 through a family member who was in the electronics business. I recall how he struggled to get it out of his car to “deliver” it. I had seen its brother in the art department of a nearby university when I was taking sabbatical studies. That was 2001. We saw “Tron.” Tron was a futuristic  sci-fi movie that was released soon after I got that RCA television. Now they are both outdated. Thirty-four years later, the television is still in my living room. And still working. But here’s the … Continue reading →

436. Hot Soupy and Pie: on the late Soupy Sales

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I know that somewhere in the depths of my posts there is at least a mention if not a blog on the late Soupy Sales who passed away at age 83, in The Bronx, New York. He died in a hospice after a long illness. He was born Milton Supman in Franklinton, N.C. The Supmans were the only Jewish family in town and owned a dry goods store. He dubbed himself “Soupy” because his neighbors pronounced his last name as “Soupman.” In his early years he was a dance-show host and d.j. and collected jazz; he used Charlie Parker’s “Yardbird … Continue reading →

33. Whole Foods: Whatcha See Is Whatcha Get

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While walking down the produce aisle at the Whole Foods Market, (a food store that specializes in supposedly healthier food, some organic, and decidedly higher priced than regular food stores) my Cerebral Jukebox honed in on soul music playing in the background, Whatcha See Is Whatcha Get. I was happy.  I felt like dancing.  I flirted with the produce guy over a bunch or cilantro, I boogied over to the radishes.  I looked at faces staring intently at the ears of corn and white peaches.  No one else was on planet 60’s with me. I decided to make gazpacho. I … Continue reading →

25. Part II: Dyre Avenue Days

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Click here for an introduction to the poem Dyre Avenue Days ©2002 by the author, all rights reserved Windows black with soot: Try to look through the paths etched by rain at a sky forever attempting to be blue, never passing gray, as you stand within the elevated 120 decibel train, ironically known as the subway, the number 5; the Dyre Avenue line. You are the voyeur of the balloon lettered spray painted buildings, of the subliminal flashes of factory workers all named by the Caribbean, tied together with threads colored Carmen, Marisol, Maria, Chica, as the train races, singing … Continue reading →

24. Part I: In A New York Minute: Underground Birthday

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    The way it used to look: Thoughts pull me back to my New York subway days. New York City is a public transportation town unless you live in the borough of Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island or the Bronx, where there is more breathing room and a place to park. I lived in The Bronx for the 7 years I was married to my first husband; it was hishim.It was a long commute for me to get to Manhattan to get to college, and later to get to work. Buses, trains, transfers, pushing, crowds.This particular train line, the (fitting … Continue reading →

20. In Labor with Lassie

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It feels like I have been running and spinning since May; a full 4 months since picking the prodigal son up from college with his truck load of boxes and dirty laundry, until this weekend when we returned him to school his last year with a truckload of boxes and soon to be dirty laundry.It’s Labor Day, a day of rest for the worker who resumes his or her life of stress tomorrow, behind a desk, in an office, at a hospital, in front of a computer or a classroom, washing floors in an airport, slinging hash at a diner, … Continue reading →

14. Charmed. I’m Sure

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originally posted 4/12/07 Bloggers and Bloggettes; This morning as I was brushing my teeth my day’s idea came to me. I write in many different forms. One is in silver. This is my story. One day in the early 1950’s, my parents took me on a subway ride to the Bronx (one of the 5 “boroughs of New York City: Brooklyn, Queens, The Bronx, Staten Island, and Manhattan are the five boroughs and are largely residential.”) Part of the train ride is elevated and it is a kick for a young child to kneel backwards in her seat and look … Continue reading →

171. Adult Poetry: series (original) Civil War: Part 1: Pies and Bread

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The northern Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper presented an unflattering portrait of southern white womanhood in a May 1863 illustration. The depiction contrasted sharply with the view promoted by plantation elites of virtuous southern white mothers and wives who obeyed and deferred to men. The panel on the left showed southern women “hounding their men on to Rebellion.” The panel on the right depicted them “feeling the effects of Rebellion and creating Bread Riots.” The latter panel referred to the Richmond bread riot, which took place on April 2, 1862 when several hundred women frustrated by food shortages and high prices … Continue reading →

143. Poetry: Series: Harlem On My Mind: 5. Flaws

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A special “thank you,” to Tyler, who was the impetus for me to write this poem. I had thought I completed this series in 2002, but when he said he anticipated the 5th poem, I thought, “uh oh!” I better get out of my “dry spell” and get to work. I  highly recommend him if you are suffering from “writer’s block.”       The poems in this series are: 1. Skin 2. Take The “A” Train 3. Hail Mary 4. Theft 5. Flaws It was 1966, I was a freshman in college, Harlem was one of many suffering parts … Continue reading →

11. Poetry: 1959

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A retreat back to the late ’50’s where life was simple and safe. original post 4/20/07 I wrote a large collection of poetry after 9/11 while on a teaching sabbatical. This is one of them. When the world gets to be a little too much, I retreat to happy, innocent years. Enjoy the music; it is not all from 1959, but thereabout. I should write a poem about Richard Panik; in 6th grade he was the first boy I ever danced with. The song was Richie Valens’ “Oh Donna.”  The place was the school gym.  I was giddy.  It was … Continue reading →

9. Poetry: Needles

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The author’s grandparents Sophie and Sam Wasserman  original post 4/19/07 My dear Blogland denizens: Yesterday’s topic reminded me of my grandma Sophie who was born in Kiev, Russia, in 1893. In those days the borders changed every other week, so you could say she was born in Romania. The week that Kiev was in Romania. This poem is dedicated to her. She was not educated: the Tsar forbade girls from getting an education, probably because they were indentured to sew for the royals. Grandpa Sam (Wasserman b.1888 d.1949) sent for her and they married, and raised 4 girls in a … Continue reading →

7. Poetry: The Horrible End of Roseann Quinn

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original post 4/16/07 This morning Roseann Quinn popped into my head, another friend I failed to mention on my list of losses. Maybe it’s because the weather has been so lousy, raining in torrents. Or maybe the sky is still crying for Rosie. I do. Her sensational murder in 1973 led the way to Judith Rossner’s book, “Looking For Mr. Goodbar.” A movie followed after. I just remember Rosie’s laugh and humor, her post-polio limp, and her great sense of fun. Rest in Peace, sweet girl.     For Roseann Quinn ©2002 by the author, all rights reserved I can … Continue reading →

146 b. How and why: The story behind the vintage ice cream wagon charm: Why I write in silver

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Memories translate to words and charms.           And here is why. See the little ice cream cart? I’ll take you on a journey to 1959.   8 CommentsChronological Reverse Threaded reply aladybug wrote on Jan 27, ’08, edited on Jan 27, ’08 I don’t see the ice cream cart… I see pans, one open, one closed, then something else I can’t identify, then a woman in an exercise machine (perhaps just my perception?), then a round object, a hot dog, and then… something else I can’t identify either… Am I crazy? reply aladybug wrote on Jan … Continue reading →