It's Funny What You Remember
This week I turned 50+(mumble mumble). I honestly have no idea how that happened. I remember as a teen thinking that 50 was absolutely ANCIENT and ready for a retirement home! It’s funny how your perspective changes when it happens to you. This is true about so many things. But I digress.
My husband and I got married right out of high school so I was an “old married lady” by the time I made 25. But seriously. It feels like that was a few years ago. It’s so crazy to think I’m in my 50s already. Don’t get me wrong. I love being at an age where I know who I am (mostly) and am grateful for the wisdom I’ve attained. It just happened so fast. I hear myself talking about the “good ole days” and have to stop and laugh.
The good ole days to me were mostly in Brooklyn. I have very few memories of my early childhood in Utila but those from ages 5-13 have left an indelible mark in my mind and heart. Some of my friends that grew up in the South ask with unfettered disdain, “Oh wow. You grew up in New York? How was that?” My answer always surprises them. It was magical!
Just this week I read a blog from a young man who has moved to New York for college and it brought back so many memories. I grew up in Brooklyn so it wasn’t like we were navigating Manhattan as a young family, which is what everyone thinks of when they think of living in New York. But we didn’t have a car so our mode of transportation was the subway for anything outside of our neighborhood. Mostly, we walked. Everywhere. To school, to my grandparents apartment, to buy groceries, to visit friends. Back in the 70s, there were still mom and pop stores for everything from shoes to bread. It wasn’t until the late 70s that a big grocery store opened up near us. We were in awe of the aisles and aisles of choices and all in one place. I know, I know. It sounds like those stories from old people about walking miles and miles in the snow..well, wait. Yup, we did that too! It was definitely something to behold back then! But out of all those family owned businesses, the most important one was our local pizza place.
It was literally across the street from us and we frequented it as often as we could. I can still taste the salty cheese and smell the freshly baked dough, feel the wax paper and the burning hot pizza sauce oozing out of it as I folded it in half (the ONLY way to eat New York style pizza). The owners were rough and loud but we loved it. I have memories of baseball games at Yankee Stadium with my dad and grandfather, eating Nathan’s hot dogs and yelling at the umpires. Watching my uncle (who was way younger than me and was more like my little brother) play handball and baseball with his friends while my grandfather watched and umpired from the second floor of his apartment. Trips to the museums and plays, the Botanical Gardens, Macy’s at Christmas time (where I got lost), New Year’s Eve at a close friend’s house where we ate Italian and Greek food while dancing the night away and saying “Happy New Jersey” at midnight, whole days out at Coney Island (where I got lost again), and the smells and sounds of our neighbor’s apartments who were from various ethnic backgrounds. Oh yes, magical is the word. By the way. Can you see my pattern? Most of my memories revolve around food! But food is such a powerful memory trigger, transporting you back in time like nothing else can.
I hadn’t gone back there in over 30 years until an unexpected trip a few years ago. I found out that a big group of my family members were going there to see some Yankee games so, of course, I invited myself! It was Bud’s first trip and he loved it. It was as wonderful as I remembered it. Things were very different but felt the same. Brooklyn has become much more trendy and eclectic but it felt like returning home.
When I talk to my parents about growing up in New York, their memories are a bit different. My dad took the subway into Manhattan each day, traversing the cold and snow in the winter and the brutal heat of the summer. Money was scarce and life was hard, especially for my mom who, as a young mother, had to leave her small island and everyone she knew to navigate one of the biggest cities in the world with 3 small children. She had to walk us to school, to doctor’s appointments, to stores, carrying groceries up 3 flights of stairs. It’s funny what you remember. She was so scared to be out and about and I always loved the adventure of it all. I didn’t feel her fear, as I’m sure she tried to cover it up as best she could. My parents talk about how much we struggled during those years but I don’t remember any of that. I had no idea times were tough for us. Our apartment was tiny, as most are in New York. We had a bathroom that was the size of a small closet but I vividly remember the claw foot tub. These days those tubs cost a fortune! They remember the Son of Sam killings while were there. I remember skate boarding in Prospect Park. They remember the sweltering heat and trying to get the apartment cooled by one small window unit. I remember sleeping on bunk beds with my sister and making her hold my hand because I was scared of the dark. Yes, she’s younger than me. Don’t judge.
It’s funny what you remember and how a song, a smell or something so insignificant can conjure up the most wonderful memories. I hope today you can bring some of your most magical memories to mind and enjoy them for a little while. As for me, after writing this blog, New York is calling! I can’t wait to go back!