I Remember It Well

NOT REALLY GONE

 

Years before Mauldin lampooned the military brass in WWII, before "Kilroy was here" became a symbol of national unity, the Golden Years  of Childhood enveloped me in their womb without letting me know how lucky I was. Lindbergh crossed the Atlantic and later lost his son to a kidnaper. Knickers were in for boys until they were men. Salk hadn't yet found a solution to save us kids from a life inside a big silver machine from which there was no escape. Hitler may as well have been on the moon, as we never heard of him. Life  was easy, life was fun.

 

Petty squabbles, friendly arguments, excitement, long do-nothing days ate up my youth. Going to school with the same neighbors year after year made tight bonds between us. Everybody knew everybody so that we could almost always find someone to play school, step and dodge ball, Puss in the Corner, Hide and Seek. We roller skated thru alleys , chalked houses, cut movie star pictures from old magazines, rummaged thru drug store trash for crepe paper and empty cigar boxes. Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney had nothing on our shows. Old sheets sufficed for curtains and Mama's aprons and beads became costumes.
The cost of the lemon and sugar was given to Mama after the entire pitcher of lemonade at one cent a glass was sold. We were, unbeknownst to ourselves, very rich poor kids.

 

I must have been one of the richest because we had a Radio, a big Majestic, with a large dial and big knobs to make the sound louder than the passing street cars. It was a magical machine that took me to India with Daddy Warbucks, Punjab, Orphan Annie and 'Arf' Sandy. I sent away for Annie's secret coded ring but it quickly went out of shape when I tried to fit it to my tiny finger. Jack Armstrong, All American Boy, kept me from supper evening after evening. Mama always hollered but I wouldn't go in the kitchen until the program was over. Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon flew me to Fantasy Lands, lands that had to be way out in the sky someplace. The 15 minute shows were my world
for an hour. I wouldn't go to the store for Mama to get ½ bread for five cents, enough for our family of five, always claiming my shoes were off and my sister should go. I won every time. Later, after suppers, Daddy was in charge of the radio. There had to be silence when Jack Benny was coming on. He didn't like Fred Allen as much as Benny but we all listened because Daddy said so.

 

We loved the Manhattan Merry Go Round, in fact, went to a broadcast in N.Y. I had had so many Pina Coladas to drink from the street vendors, that I almost peed in my pants. The 'Silence' sign was on during the show, doors were locked and I sat there squirming, almost fainting, before Mama finally managed to get me out of the studio.

 

It certainly was better listening to that show and all the rest of my favorites, shoeless, lying on the floor, right in front of my best friend, Mr. Majestic.