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That's Life: Long-Lost Dog Days of SummerBy Phyllis McGuire - August 25, 2008
iBerkshires Columnist
When my local friends and I lunched together recently, they reminisced about the summers of their childhood. They mentioned walking through the woods to a "swimming hole," and family gatherings where their fathers roasted clams and corn in pits they had dug.
When one of my friends asked me "What was it like for you growing up in New York City?" I replied, "Well, for one thing, I had to travel by subway and bus to get to a swimming pool or beach.
"The subway was oppressively hot, but I was especially uncomfortable on the ride home. I itched, because I was wearing my wet, sandy bathing suit under my clothes."
One of my favorite summer sounds as a young child was the music floating from a miniature merry-go-round mounted on a truck that roamed city streets. I would rush to ring the bell under our mail box, and shortly Mother would appear at a front window of our fifth-floor apartment.
 Randy Trabold |
"Please can I ride the merry-go-round?" I would shout. After Mother threw down a nickel wrapped in a piece of newspaper, I ran to the truck, eagerly anticipating going round and round on a carved horse.
One summer during a blistering heat wave, the Daily News ran a photo of an egg frying on a city street. I never saw that happen, but I remember steam rising from the sun-baked pavement.
Air-conditioning was a luxury the average person could not afford, and brave souls slept on fire escapes at night, hoping to be wafted by a breeze.
Daring boys opened fire hydrants during the day, and then held a wooden plank across the stream of water, creating a gushing fountain children ran through to cool off.
Most of the children, including me, wore bathing suits while others jumped into the water in their street clothes. Mother made sure I also wore shoes - not my good shoes, of course, but those I had outgrown and saved for such occasions - as she feared I might step on a nail, a shard of glass or dog and horse excrement in the street.
The only horses I ever saw in the city were those that pulled peddlers' wagons. "Get your fresh toh-ma-toes, pea-ches," the peddlers chanted as the horses clomped down the street. Women, clad in house dresses, spilled out of buildings to strike a bargain with the peddlers.
Some weekends, my family found refuge from the heat of the city by riding on the Hudson River Day Line excursion boats that sailed from New York City to Poughkeepsie.
We would relax on deck chairs, enjoying the scenic view: castles that overlooked the Hudson River, towering trees that stretched to the sky, and fields of purple and blue wildflowers.
But in a while, my sisters and I would want to be active again. We would compete with each other in "walking races," Mother's warning echoing in our ears: "Don't disgrace yourself by running around the deck like 'wild kids.'" The winner of the race, would proudly announce to our parents, "I'm the fastest."
The boat made stops at Bear Mountain, West Point, Indian Point and, lastly, Poughkeepsie. Some days we were among the passengers disembarking at Indian Point, which boasted a pool, a playground and lush flower gardens. About four hours later, the boat would come back to pick us up for the return trip to New York City.
When we were on board the boat in Poughkeepsie, where it remained for an hour or so, we would stand at the rail, watching children dive from the dock and then swim to the boat. We tossed pennies and nickels to them, as they hollered "Over here." When their cheeks were plump with coins they had stored in their mouth, they dropped the money into containers they had placed on the dock earlier.
 I was glad just to fill my mouth with the picnic lunch Mother had prepared for our outing. I most liked the fried pepper sandwiches, meatball heroes, lemonade, watermelon and cookies. Later in the afternoon, Father would lead my sisters and me to the cafeteria and let us choose from the selection of ice cream products — cones, pops, creamcicles and fudgcicles.
Isn't it wonderful how memories can carry us back to the days of our youth when all it took to make us happy was riding on a boat in the Hudson River or swimming in a lake in the Berkshires? |
Thanks for your memories. I also took that boat up the Hudson. I was recently reminded of the boat we took to Catskill, NY. They fixed the area where the boat used to dock and make a beautiful recreational area.
My daughter and granddaughter lived in Pittsfield, and Adams and Cheshire. I enjoyed visiting with them.
Now my granddaughter lives in NY and her Mom lives in Florida.
I love your articles. Keep up the good work. | | from: Mary | on: 09-09-2008 |
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| classey story | | from: old lady | on: 08-26-2008 |
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