- da Brooklyn Stoop

- Brooklyn Memories

TRICKERTREAT!!!!

Trickertreat, trickertreat,
Gimme sometin' good to eat,
Trickertreat, trickertreat,
Or I'll make you smell my feet,
Trickertreat, trickertreat.

Happy Halloween!

Ruminances & Smiles #1
If you lived as a Brooklyn kid in the 40’s, 50’s, or 60’s, in a time of simplicity and innocence… these memories may also be yours:

Baby cribs and cots were covered with bright colored, lead-based paint, but who knew. Our toys had no computer chips in them and we didn’t need a college degree to assemble or to use.

Most families had a Mom who stayed at home and a Dad who had a job. Both worked for the family and for a better life for the kids. No matter what your economic or ethnic background there was a pride in both who you were and in what you could become. Things weren’t easy but they seemed to work out.

The future we saw was so bright… nothing was impossible for people who tried, worked hard, and believed. Optimism was rampant and the future would be so wonderful. The United States was the king of the world and the most important and interesting place to be was Brooklyn. The Commies were a threat but as kids growing up we didn’t see it. Our parents who lived the depression, WWII, the Korean conflict knew the threat but kept us sheltered.

We played simple games with as many kids as could be rounded up: ring-o-levio, kick-the-can, punchball and stickball, jumped rope, flew kites, Chinese handball, ace-king-queen, rode bikes, caught fireflies, played off-the point baseball, slap-ball, dodge-ball, skelly, potsie, red-light – green-light, hit the penny, Johnny-on-the-pony, sledding and snowballs, iron tag, sprinklers, pen-knives, “mother-may-I?”, knucks, baseball cards, knock-hockey, follow-the-leader, cowboys and Indians, “I declare war.” hula-hoops, water balloons, chalk, yo-yos, marbles, jacks, and running and chasing till you were out of breath and spinning and falling and laughing and laughing.

It’s was a time that brings a smile to our face and our heart when we give ourselves the opportunity to reminisce.

As kids, we had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors, or cabinets, and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets. And if were lucky enough to get to ride in a car, they had no seatbelts or airbags. Riding in the back of a truck on a warm day was always a special treat. We were really more used to riding, trolleys, busses and subways.

We drank water from the garden hose and not from designer bottles and we survived. We bought and ate things from small shops and stands that didn’t have government labels and sealed packaging and we survived.

One of the essential lessons of Brooklyn was survival.

We would spend hours building go-carts and scooters out of rescued wood fruit boxes and old broken-down things and then ride them down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After dragging a sneakered foot and running into curbs and bushes a few times, we learned and solved the stopping problem and went back up the hill. We were sometimes reckless and did stupid things, and sometimes we followed people who did stupid things but we usually had the foundation that didn’t allow us to go too far or be too stupid.

We would leave home in the morning and play all day with a break for lunch at your own house or a friend’s, as long as we were back when for dinner when Dad came home. If there was no school the next day, we played outside at night till Mom called us in. During the day no one was able to reach us and we survived… and they survived. Our parents knew that all the neighbors would watch out for all the kids. We were just out “playing”. No cell phones or pager. It was a time of trust.

We had friends and best-friends and many of them. We would be hurt when they played with others and didn’t include us. Most of all we were crushed by flat-leavers who played with us and then left to play with someone else. Hurts could be real and deep. It was part of the lessons of life that we had to learn.

We usually felt safe and secure in our Brooklyn. We were protected by the neighbors and by just about everyone else. Our home doors and cars weren’t locked… and toys were sometimes left out… there was trust. Neighborhoods were pretty clean and people had pride and picked-up.

The sounds of Brooklyn were wonderful. The sound of kids playing was loud and constant; families arguing and talking were constant. The sounds of radios with every conceivable station blaring through opened windows were welcoming and reassuring. The colophony of traffic noise reflected the time of day and the commerce of the borough. Accents mirrored the ethnic make up of Brooklyn: Italian, Yiddish, brogues, deep-south, Polish, Spanish (Puerto Rican or Columbian), German, English/Scotch/Welsh, Russian, Chinese, Indian, Swedish and Norwegian, and even some “pig-Latin” and bop, etc. It was wonderful. We grew up knowing enough words to get us in trouble, or at least we knew what-not-to-say.

We played hard and fast and just about whenever we could. We got cuts and bruises, and broke bones and broke teeth, and there were no law suits from these accidents. They were accidents. No one was to blame, but us. Today we say “Shit happens.” but back then we said “Accidents happen.”

We had fights and punched each other and got black and blue and learned to get over it. There were bullies and we avoided them and the teacher or principal would settle the situation as they were supposed to. There may be a nurse at the school but there wasn’t a psychologist or psychriatrist or any professional counselors. Maybe there should have been but there wasn’t a “true” need.

Our Brooklyn didn’t have pure bred dogs or anything else purebred. Our Brooklyn made do with what it got. We got along on less and didn’t expect more. We had dreams but we were realistic. We knew that our day would come but in the meantime, we made do with what was dealt us. We had treats that were real treats ’cause they were exceptions from everyday life.

A lot of our growing up in Brooklyn was special. To go out to dinner was special. Bringing pizza or Chinese in was special. Coney Island was special as was Sheepshead Bay. Going to the City or even downtown shopping was special (particularly if you got a Nedick’s hot-dog or an A&S ice cream treat). Parks, playgrounds, schoolyards, and play areas were special. Parades of any size were special, even neighborhood ones. The local movie theater with two features, 10 cartoons, coming attractions, serials, coloring contests, and an ancient matron was special. Your first two-wheeler was special even if you were the third owner. Having a Doctor make a house-call was special. Having a baby delivered in the kitchen was special. School plays, pagents, “sings”, or ceremonies were special. Being able to buy at Martin’s and not May’s or Korvette’s was special. To know that what was heard on the news wasn’t happening in your world was special.

There wasn’t designer anything in my neighborhood. We wore the clothes that our parents gave us… even it they were first used by an older brother, sister or cousin. Sneakers were wore out. I mean wore out with holes in the bottom, tears, and broken laces. We would get to wear them another two weeks before we got hand-me-downs or new ones.

We ate devil-dogs, and white bread and butter, and drank soft drink but we were seldom overweight…we were always outside playing. We shared one bottle of Coke with four friends and no one died from this. If this was a tight money time for Mom and Dad you might eat “wish” sandwiches which were two pieces of bread with mustard but with a “wish” for balogna or cheese to go between them.

Some storekeepeers would extend credit if you were “short” and if you were a “regular”. They tried to keep the business and the families together and you knew you had to pay back or the credit wouldn’t be extended again. Many people needed that “credit” from time to time.

We ate candies made of wax that had some syrupy stuff inside. Stuff wasn’t individually wrapped or “best if used by” dated. Fast food was running in your house or to a friend’s to grab something for lunch. No Burger-King or Taco Bell. There was Joe’s and Brennan & Carr’s, Nathan’s, Punzone’s, Queenies, Bickford’s, and Chock-Full-of-Nuts and crunchy doughnuts, and Jahn’s, and Burgerama, and Spumoni Gardens and Mitchell’s and Good Humor, and chestnuts and big pretzels and candied apples, and Ebbett’s Field’s eats.

We did not have Playstations, Nintendo 64, X-Boxes, video games at all, 99 channels on cable, video discs or taped movies, surround-sound, personal cell phones, Personal Computers, or Internet chat rooms. The lucky ones of us had small black-and-white TV’s with vacuum tubes emitting a mysterious glow. The neighborhood pharmacy even had a machine to test tubes plucked from the back of the set.

Most of all we played with friends… not things. We went outside and found them. We rode bikes or skated or walked to a friend’s home and either yelled for them or simply knocked on their door, or rung the bell. Sometimes we just walked in and talked to them. There were no play-dates set up by parents! We did things by ourselves… without a guardian. But almost always with someone keeping a eye on us.

We made up games with sticks and spaldeens, pea-shooters, chestnuts, bottle caps, tin cans, mop-handles, pieces of clothe line, and with itchy-balls that fell from trees and, although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes or have other major calamities befall us.

Street ball teans were made up of whoever was there and someone always got picked last. Parade Grounds and Marine Park ball teams had tryouts and not everyone made the team. At the end of the season not everyone got a trophy. Those who didn’t had to learn to deal with disappointment. The teams actually kept score and the winning team was allowed to be excited and the losing team learned to be good sports about it and learned that, in life - sometimes you win and sometimes you lose.

Our actions were our own. Consequences were expected. When a school threatened to keep a kid back a grade if they failed, and did just that! When being sent to the principal’s office was nothing compared to the fate that awaited a misbehaving student at home. Basically, we were in fear for our lives but it wasn’t because of drive-by shootings, drugs, gangs, etc.

We had no one to hide behind. The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke a rule or the law was generally unheard of. They actually sided with the law. Often if you were tempted to do something wrong, the thought of embarrassment and what it would mean to your parents or grandparents stopped you.

If you misbehaved - your parents spanked you and no one arrested them for doing that! We also learned that when a parent said "No" - they actually meant it and our lives would not be ruined forever by being denied every little thing we wanted at any given moment.

Almost no one went to "pre-school" and when we graduated high school we all knew how to read, use proper grammar, and do basic math. We all learned how to count out change without a calculator to tell us the amount. The worst problems in school were tardiness and chewing gum in class. School kids wrote in books, not on walls....you said "Yes sir" to cops and called teachers "Mr." or "Mrs."... you were afraid of the “consequences”, not of the monitors and guards carrying night sticks or Glocks. But most of all, what we learned was right from wrong and we learned it at home, in school, and on the streets.

Parents, grandparents, extended family and neighbors were all part of your life. Maybe it was the absence of air conditioners but these people walked in the neighborhood and knew each other. They talked and were all part of your upbringing and they passed judgement on you and you didn’t want that to happen. You couldn't get away with very much even though most of us tried. You didn’t want to hurt them or for them not to be proud of you. If you were caught doing wrong you shamed them.

Decisions on our “life-events” were made by going “eeny-meeny-miney-mo.” Mistakes were corrected by simply saying “do over!” A “race issue” meant arguing about who ran the fastest. Having a weapon in school meant being caught with a slingshot. Nobody was prettier than Mom or stronger than Dad. Scrapes and bruises were kissed and made better. Belly-aches to get out of school warranted Brooklyn’s own Ex-Lax and no permission to go out when all your friends came home after school no matter how much better you felt. Taking drugs meant orange-flavored chewable aspirin. Ice cream was considered a basic food group and a cure-all.

Growing up in Brooklyn had some hard truths that can’t be ignored or swept away.
- our time had more racisism, bigotry and discrimination…
- our time became a time of social unrest…
- opportunities weren’t always “equal” when they should have been…
- women were often held back and down, and her job or pay wasn’t “equal”…
illnesses and diseases spread quickly and medical strides made were welcomed…

Brooklyn lives weren’t perfect but they were simpler and I say they were GOOD! It was a time of innocence that we can cherish and look back on fondly and that we wish for our children and grandchildren.

As a generation we have produced some of the best risk-takers and problem solvers and inventors, ever. The past 50 years has been an explosion of innovation and new ideas. We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned how to deal with it all.

Brooklyn was and always will be special for me. Even now, as I am far away, I’m always willing and excited to talk about the Brooklyn of my youth. Brooklyn is my heart. To try and describe and detail a time of wonder and magic is impossible.

Ruth, A Brooklyn Woman