I have very few warm,fuzzy memories of my early childhood...but lots of "snapshots" of people, places and events. My childhood was neither particularly happy nor particularly unhappy...it just was.
Born in New York, I was the first child of a white collar Dad and a stay-at-home Mom in a blue collar, predominantly Catholic neighborhood. Dad was a good deal older than Mom and provided me with an eight-year-old half-sister from a previous marriage. Following quickly on my heels, my brother Glen arrived before my second birthday.
I remember our house on 85th Ave, the gravel driveway, the white picket fence in the back, the climbing roses on the side of the garage, the flagstone patio, the umbrella tree and the flocks, and getting stung by a yellow-jacket as I climbed in to my blow-up Howdy Doody pool. I remember the names of our neighbors, and of my friends...and the candy store on the corner that was forbidden territory.
I recall the day Mom and Dad brought Glen home from the hospital; dancing in the kitchen with my sister while she did the dinner dishes; the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room by the picture window...and the time I tried to get my new trike from behind it and sent the tree flying across the room. I remember Nanny and Poppy babysitting one evening...and Poppy taking me for a late-night walk around the neighbor hood in my PJ's to calm my cries because I wanted to find mom. I can still see my newly-finished pink room in what had been the attic and the odd sideways rock wallpaper they put up in the downstairs bedroom that became home to Dad's old wood desk and two new, ugly green studio couches.
I have a vague picture of the downstairs apartment on Little Neck Parkway where Nanny and Poppy lived for a brief time...until Dad made them move back to Brooklyn. Although I don't know any details, I know they moved there to be close to us, but he didn't like it...and they didn't stay there long. I remember Toy, the Mexican Chihuahua we acquired...a casualty of my Uncle Vince's divorce. A dog too high-strung to be relegated to the basement much of the time because Dad didn't want her running around the house. Dad was not a person who should have pets.
I remember walking with Mom to Kollner's grocery store on Hillside Ave and bringing the groceries home in an old-lady push-cart; the corner where the bus picked me up for kindergarten...and my teacher, Mrs. Kiernan. I remember starting first grade at St. Gregory's...and Mom walking me to school every day as she pushed Glen in his stroller.
Glen was diagnosed around age two with Rheumatic Fever and St. Vitus' Dance and the doctor said too much activity was dangerous for his heart, so Mom and Dad acquired a very old, over-sized stroller for him and covered the seat with turquoise blue contact paper with a diamond pattern. Glen rode in that stroller until he was nearly six years old. For some reason, related to Glen's illness, the family had to have chest x-rays and I recall being embarrassed at having to remove my blouse in front of strangers...I was four years old!
I remember birthday parties, my green bike with the training wheels, learning to jump rope on the sidewalk with the other neighborhood kids, hanging on to Mom for dear life as I tried to roller skate and having a crush on Drew who lived across the street.
The five of us lived in the house on 85th Ave until I turned seven...then my parents decided to move.
