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The apartment house that I grew up in the Bronx was situated next to a small local park. The park was simple, some trees and benches in the main part. There was a brook that divided that part from the wooded area, which itself was bordered by the Old Methodist Home for the Aged. There was an asphalt walkway that went up a hill on the other side of the park. On the other side of that walkway was a large hill that up until someone build a house there, was covered with dirt and rocks and boulders. My apartment which was built on that hill had two different levels of entrances. You could go in on the basement or lobby level which was at the bottom of that hill or on the 6th floor entrance which was at the back of the building facing the uphill side. Manhattan College was across the street.

The park and areas surrounding it were used as places to relax for older residents and games like punchball, hide and seek, and hounds and hares (my favorite) by the kids in the area (which sometimes made it difficult for the older residents to relax).  The walkway was used mostly during the winter months when snow was on the ground as a sled riding course. We would build some speed bumps mid way through the path not to slow us down but to give us a little lift and speed as we hurtled down the hill.

Sledding down the walkway with my father.

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When I was 13 years old I got a guitar as a birthday present. I was always somewhat musically inclined. I had taught myself how to play the harmonica when I was 7 years old. My parents had me take piano lessons when I was a little older. That lasted only a few years. When I started Junior High School I joined the band and learned how to play trumpet. Taking the trumpet home, I figured out how to make all the notes of a scale, but got no credit for my effort which is probably why I only last 2 years on the trumpet before the band teacher dropped me from band. But at 13 I got a guitar.

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Part 5

In the early 1970’s when I was teaching 6th grade, I was invited to one of my student’s house for dinner with her family. This was a very close knit family. They had a big house, with a pool table and ping pong table in their basement, and a number of musical instruments that various members of their household played. I stayed at their house until 12:30 a.m. playing games and music with the family. I would be invited to their house a number of times that year. The warmth and welcomeness of all the family members, from parents to kids, was incredible. I should have been happy when I got home, but I wasn’t. I was somewhat depressed. I thought about my own family and how though we lived together, we didn’t have that kind of warmth. My parents didn’t get along all of the time, We rarely sat and did things together. I remember calling up my sister Leslie after one of my visits and telling her how I felt and how I wish we had had that kind of family. Her reply was that someday I would, with my own kids and family. It was somewhat consoling but I was still sad about what I had missed.

I did grow up and have the close family that I wanted. My wife, my son, my sisters and their families have become that family that I missed having. I feel for my brother Franz and what he missed, never knowing his father; his mother dying when he was so young; the family that he could have been part of living an ocean away not even knowing whether he existed or not. He, too, had to wait for his own wife, children and grandchildren, his second wife and her children and grandchildren and now us to have a family that we all should belong to. In addition to when I met my wife and when David was born, Franz’s meeting with our family was one of the coolest things that I’ve ever been part of.

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