A Glass Menagerie from the Five and Dime

When I was a kid there were two stores in our Bronx neighborhood we called the “five-and-dimes”.   One was Woolworth which of course is a national chain,  and the other was Fishers which I think was just a local store.  Yet to my child’s sensibility they were both grand emporiums selling priceless treasures,  and I remember shopping there with my grandmother. She and my grandfather lived about an hour away by car in Far Rockaway and of course we’d often visit back and forth.  But...

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Skate Key

Home from school,  a hurried snack,  bread with both sides buttered,  chocolate milk,  an apple offered but rudely refused.  (“Don’t be fresh,  young lady.”) Skates strapped over shoes,  no purse,  no house key,  no hanky,  just a skate key on a ribbon around her neck,  then out the door.  (”Be careful.”) Down the block,  wind in her hair to Susy’s house,  a snack offered,  now politely refused,  and out again.  (“Be careful girls!”) Now two wild skaters with...

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Rye Playland

Growing up in the Bronx our nearest amusement park was Rye Playland,  located on Long Island Sound north of the city in Westchester County. As a kid I was often taken there by my parents,  but my memories of those childhood trips are vague.  As a teenager however,  I remember Rye as a favorite summer destination. On balmy nights the guys in our crowd who’d recently gotten their licenses and had been entrusted with the keys to the family car,  would drive us up there – usually with...

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The Great Pickleball Noise War

I was an adult when I started playing tennis seriously,  but try as I might to ratchet up my game I seemed to have plateaued at intermediate level 3.   I was too good to enjoy playing with beginners,  and not good enough to play with advanced players who certainly didn’t want to play with me.   So my tennis life was not a happy one. Then I discovered pickleball,  the relatively new racket sport that’s all the rage.  Once I started playing I found I was much better at it than tennis...

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Driving with Susy

Susy’s family lived on our block,  just a few houses away,  and our parents were close friends.  In my mind’s eye I can still see our mothers sitting together in our kitchen,  me watching in fascination as Susy’s mom twisted the string around her teabag to get the last drop of flavor. And I remember calling for Susy after school and we’d roller skate together for hours around and around the block. And I remember running down to their house early one morning to tell them my baby...

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