Lawrence Alma-Tedema, NN

Joseph Alleman, NN

Street Sports

City kids learn to play in the streets. Partly because the parks were not any better groomed than the streets were. At least not then and not there. The park on the "line" was bald (no grass) and so was the one off the square. The Bocci court by the church was in pretty good shape, but who played Bocci?

Equipment was a minor problem. You only needed real equipment if you were going to one of the parks anyway. If it could be thrown it was. if you could swing it, it was a bat. Broom handles the preferred option. Bottle caps, rubber balls, half rubber balls, clothes pins...perfect! Can't throw one straight, can't hit them far and certainly can't "put anyone's eye out"!

Rubber ball off the stairs, past the pitcher, a hit. Over the shrubs-4 bagger, etc. Sidewalk tennis, another rubber ball game. White pimple the choice. Pink ball if you have to. Wiffle ball invented as was frisbee just about this time. And Hula Hoops! 

Tag rush football, go down to the hydrant cut in and I'll hit you! Really? Second car, first down and telephone pole, TD.

Street hockey? Ours! Homemade nets from scratch and lots of wet clothing. Broken sticks easily repaired with new screw on attachment blades. Goalie doesn't need one! Rules to follow, or to be adjusted. 

I was a teenager, 6 foot tall and 125 pounds. My Father hated to feed me, thought he was wasting money because two or three hours later I would want more!

Side yard card tournaments, whist and hearts. Some board games in same yards. The yards were all cement so some cardboard padding was welcome.

Home made rubber band guns rivaled snub nosed water pistols. Even in class!

I still love sports, only to watch now. I still love to eat, but much closer to 200 pounds than 125. Card games and board games on occasion. The spontaneity is what I truly miss. But, you are only young once.

Romanza

 I have flown over this bridge...not in a Dumbo though.

Let's set the scene for something that can only be described as pure romance. We've just left the Muir Woods, one of the most awesome, beautiful places I've ever been to. Giant Redwoods, serene silence, even the bus tour from New York was quit and have now arrived at Sausolito. Dinner on the deck overlooking San Francisco and a seaplane takes off in front of us! Where from? How often? Where does it go? All to be answered after a terrific lunch.

We find it, but tickets, go to the dock....


Reality! Til now sounds great, my SISTER and I now board the plane. She has to sit in the back directly behind me to counter balance the 300 pound pilot that is crammed into his and part of my seats. We taxi...we taxi...we taxi and finally lift off. Through the center of the bay and up, over and along the bridge to the coast. A short hop down the coast and then the return. A full meal and my ever present motion problem reminding me that perhaps romance should find an on-land location! 

Los Caracoles

 In the 1970's I was forced, ok coerced into a trip. An adult trip, Brenda would watch our girls for two weeks and we would go somewhere. I didn't have a clue. Mary Ellen asked me where I might like to visit and my pick was Barcelona. My time in the Navy had taken me there and I really liked it. Still do, one of my top three.  Well Madrid, Toledo and Mallorca were also added to the agenda, as 14 days in one city wasn't that good an idea. The trip was wonderful, every bit of it, even chasing the burglar one night in Madrid. But Barcelona was the star.

And Los Caracoles was one of the most memorable dining/entertainment nights I've ever had. Let's start with this disclaimer, I have no idea what we ate...let's say paella and proceed. If the food wasn't good the evening would have been much shorter. This restaurant has been in existence  over 150 years and has remained in the same family, there's history and tradition.
The  concierge told us about this place, so we didn't know what to expect. We got a cab about 8:oo or so and a short hop took us to this alley. Go in there! Where? That bar. Really?

Really, the entrance was through the Tapas bar crowded with standing, eating, drinking, chatting Catalans. Then through the kitchen, downstairs and into the main hall...a truly grand entrance. Food, beer, wine and Flaminco! Spectacular!

It's still there and I'll bet just as good. Yes I do recommend Los Caracoles!

Persona

 It's not the name of a razor, it is the carefully constructed defence mechanism that  each of us manufactures during our life. A way to show the world who we are, what we want to be thought of, how we interact with others. Stand-offish, aloof, pompous,smart-ass, etc.

A real intelligent concept. Some people are exactly what they seem, just not that many. When I said defence mechanism, it's the perfect term. Each one of us is born equally naked and defenceless. Our parents take us through the first few years and then we start our own self defence. If you are slow of foot, mind or wit there has to be something other resource to allow you to thrive. Maybe you learn to joke, how to fight, bully, become a jock...something to make you special.

We all develop something to do this with and it becomes part of our persona...what others think when they hear our name or see us coming. The obvious problem with this is that we get older, we change, we adapt to a new order. Neither you or I can be the same person now that we were then, regardless of when "then" occurred. That is the definition of evolution. Time, change and the ability to adapt.

I, personally detest the word stupid, because it implies that someone believes that another can NOT learn. Denying that possibility is absurd. People exist that cannot learn. Those that I have met have frequently been a warm hearted, caring sort. Unassuming and non-threatening. Not to be confused with those that are merely ignorant. Unknowing. Worse, all to many seem to realize their ignorance and are proud of it. Arrogantly ignorant! What a persona to show the world. Such a great defence to the slings and arrows of the world. Exactly the type of persona that cries for reaction! Frequently a fist.

Learning isn't hard , it starts with an open, curious mind and an easily delighted curiosity. I can't imagine a world without words and reading. All of us have seen what happens when a message is passed orally, it never arrives at the destination the same as it starts. At some time in your school years one of your teachers showed you this by whispering something into the ear of student #1and then it was repeated from 1 to 2 to 3,etc. The end result did not resemble the beginning. Point? If you can't read and write your message will always end up garbled, a product of ignorance, your choice not to learn. So...if you are in the arrogantly ignorant camp you should not be using the word stupid, there is something much worse. Open your mind and learn, your heart will benefit!

Revere Airport

 One of my classmates in high school had a plan. He was pre-enlisting in the Marine Corp to be a pilot. Since he already had his own plane (Aeronica,as pictured) and many air-hours the plan made sense. At graduation he left to basic and I ended up in the Navy...who knows perhaps he landed on the Saratoga!

But one winter afternoon he took me up for my only flight out of Revere Airport. My memory of the flight itself was that it was cold. We left Revere, flew in/out Tewksbury, Plum Island and back. More hours for David.

However it wasn't the mud field or the flight that I remember best, it was the GD scary ride to and from the field on the back of his Vespa. They are SMALL, the tandems were BIG! ...and they really wanted to suck you under them. I remembered that same feeling years later in a rent-a-car driving from Genoa to Nice. Little car, big truck!  So, David Savage, here's hoping you have bigger cars as well as bigger fields to fly out of!

Mother

 Here are two photos of my Mother, Jessie Edith, taken early and late in life. Both her siblings died before her. Her sister, Eulene, was killed on Christmas day when aged 15 by a drunk driver and her brother, Jesse by a heart attack later in life.

So that makes me the oldest survivor and while I have many more pictures of her, none are taken in the kitchen. Mother hated cooking, she had only the one thing she liked to make...fudge.No one taught her to cook as a child, she didn't pick it up as a young adult and only in her later days did she start collecting recipes. I say collect because she seldom used them and only after adjusting the cooking time severely. I've come home with new shoes that were more tender than one of her oven roasts. Conversely nothing was more tender than her pressure cooked green beans. My Father would frequently prepare the week-end meals, after one of our visits to the market.Some built in self preservation there.

She was a bit inventive, several cans of this and that vegetables with sliced hot dogs...yummm! When I joined the Navy I was the only one to gain weight. Did you know that a scallop cooked for more than 15 minutes not only bounces like a "super-ball" but is just as chewy?

Not saying we grew up mal-nourished, after all a simple glance at one of disproves that idea, but we sure didn't know what food was supposed to taste like. Took many years and a few other stories for me to eat seafood. I learned, I've seen the light...and it's a med-rare sirloin!

So what were Mothers' pleasures? Little girls, seven and little boys, four, oh you say, those are results not pleasures...infer the rest! When time permitted reading was a secret vice, along with a big Hershey's bar. Books or magazines, but the Hershey's bar stayed with her until the end. An occasional night dancing at the Silver Fox or the other club beside it while we lived on Paris St. is another memory.

Funny how you spend so many years growing up and your memories are so disjointed. The first years of your life so dependent on your parents and then they toss out into the wilderness...school and meeting other kids. Your needs and wants change almost immediately...keeping up with, etc.

Eleven of us were born and brought up by Mother and Max. No deaths, no delinquency (that we were caught at), no drugs, no drop outs, lots of military service (Navy, thank you ), a couple of degrees and marriages, with grand children to follow-they did something right.

But no, she could not cook! 

Charles Burchfield, NN