Ray Levine
When I was about three or four years old, a traveling street photographer took a picture of me sitting on a pony in front of a ship that sold men’s shirt collars. There I still am, 90 years later, perched on the pony, biting my lip but still looking pleased and perhaps even proud, with a big bow in my hair and my feet clad in high, laced shoes. Where the pony’s head should be, there is only a blur, as the animal chose to turn away from the camera when its master pressed the shutter.
That photo is the only one I have of myself as a child. I have no pictures at all of my father, who died in 1927, the year I turned 14. I remember someone taking a picture of him once, but I have never been able to find where that photo is, if it exists at all. It is possible that I am the only person left in the world who has an image of my father’s face as a memory.
Beginning in the 1930s, after I got married, I found myself being photographed often; my husband liked to take pictures and record our activities and those of our relatives and friends. (He recorded our incomes and expenses, too, in detailed accounts that tracked every penny that entered or exited the house. You’ll find a record in one of our budget books of the dime he once found in the coin return of a public phone.)
My husband and I placed all our photos in albums. Years after my husband passed away, I removed many of them and mounted them in collage fashion in big frames, so I could see them on my walls every day. I have a half dozen such photo collages in my apartment, and more photos displayed everywhere, on flat surfaces in the foyer, living room and bedroom and in the kitchen too --- there, I have another photo collage and framed snapshots on the counter as well. While I eat, I gaze at many family members and friends who are no longer alive, as well as the many adults and children in the families of my two daughters. I look into their eyes, and they look into mine. In that way, all of them are always with me.
When my daughters and their children and their children’s children come to my apartment, they sometimes pause in front of one photo or another and wonder, “Did I really wear my hair that way as a teenager?” or “Is that really my mother?” or “Who is that handsome man with you, Bubby?” I can give them short answers, but each photo has a story, sometimes a long one… a little chapter in the many chaptered story of my life.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Berry-picking, Swimming and Hypnosis
Rose Smeenk
The first time I went up to the Catskills was with my family to a koch-a-line. Our belongings were packed on to a neighbor’s old car and we traveled to a farm house where we had one room and shared a community kitchen. It was so crowded in the room that one night I escaped to a hammock and created a scare for my family, until my brother found me and dumped me unceremoniously on the ground. We went berry-picking, swimming in a small near by river and created our own entertainment at night, such as camp fires, funny dress-ups and sing-alongs.
The second time was when my father and uncle had a ‘Society’ weekend. This time it was fancy, at the Nevele Hotel. I remember the lavish food spread at breakfast and the huge meals at lunch and dinner. One evening the entertainer was a hypnotist. He chose me, my uncle and several others to go on stage. I was told that I gave an extravagant rendition of Mae West, sexily thrusting my 18-year-old body as I strutted around the stage. When I awoke, still on stage, I saw my uncle, still hypnotized, sucking his thumb and lisping a rhyme in his native Russian. It was fascinating how each performer was under the hypnotist’s power.
The third time was when my girlfriend and I went up for our two week vacation. We extended our wardrobes by borrowing each other’s clothing and jewelry. Most of the young folks spent their time at swimming pool, girls showing off their two piece bathing suits (not quite bikinis) and flirting with the opposite sex. We danced ‘til midnight and slept late in the mornings. Occasionally we played tennis, when we could get a court. We could also get bicycles to ride. The most important thing was the success we had by actually having dates in the city with the young men we met at the hotel. However these relationships were not long-lasting because so many of the young men had to enlist or were drafted for the service.
The last time I was at the Nevele was with my bride groom, a Sea Bea, on leave for the week. We were planning on spending the weekend there but when he showed up dressed in his sailor uniform, the registrar said that they honor servicemen by giving them two free days. This was heaven for us and, we took full advantage of all the facilities.
We were never able to get back there, with his being in Okinawa. After his safe return we needed to find a place to live and jobs. We no longer could afford a vacation in the Catskills.
Rose Smeenk
The first time I went up to the Catskills was with my family to a koch-a-line. Our belongings were packed on to a neighbor’s old car and we traveled to a farm house where we had one room and shared a community kitchen. It was so crowded in the room that one night I escaped to a hammock and created a scare for my family, until my brother found me and dumped me unceremoniously on the ground. We went berry-picking, swimming in a small near by river and created our own entertainment at night, such as camp fires, funny dress-ups and sing-alongs.
The second time was when my father and uncle had a ‘Society’ weekend. This time it was fancy, at the Nevele Hotel. I remember the lavish food spread at breakfast and the huge meals at lunch and dinner. One evening the entertainer was a hypnotist. He chose me, my uncle and several others to go on stage. I was told that I gave an extravagant rendition of Mae West, sexily thrusting my 18-year-old body as I strutted around the stage. When I awoke, still on stage, I saw my uncle, still hypnotized, sucking his thumb and lisping a rhyme in his native Russian. It was fascinating how each performer was under the hypnotist’s power.
The third time was when my girlfriend and I went up for our two week vacation. We extended our wardrobes by borrowing each other’s clothing and jewelry. Most of the young folks spent their time at swimming pool, girls showing off their two piece bathing suits (not quite bikinis) and flirting with the opposite sex. We danced ‘til midnight and slept late in the mornings. Occasionally we played tennis, when we could get a court. We could also get bicycles to ride. The most important thing was the success we had by actually having dates in the city with the young men we met at the hotel. However these relationships were not long-lasting because so many of the young men had to enlist or were drafted for the service.
The last time I was at the Nevele was with my bride groom, a Sea Bea, on leave for the week. We were planning on spending the weekend there but when he showed up dressed in his sailor uniform, the registrar said that they honor servicemen by giving them two free days. This was heaven for us and, we took full advantage of all the facilities.
We were never able to get back there, with his being in Okinawa. After his safe return we needed to find a place to live and jobs. We no longer could afford a vacation in the Catskills.
Dancing in the Evening was My Only Sport
Judith Dower
European refugees went to certain hotels. These were very nice and we had lots of fun. As well as having a good time, most of us met our husbands there. In the evening there were dances, sports during the day and good meals always; everybody ate an awful lot. One year a gentleman whom I knew but was not close with called me and said he would like to come up for the weekend to a hotel at which I was staying. From then on that was it. The hotel was the Takenasi. It was a big place, not one of the best ones, but always full of young people. One year after that weekend, we got married. It was a June wedding.
The ballroom dancing in the evening was wonderful. I learned how to dance from my older brother. He took dancing lessons and I was his practice partner. The hotel had a big swimming pool, golf, tennis and lots of other activities; dancing in the evening was my only sport.
After I got married, I still went up to the mountains, with my little boy. We took a room in a house with my aunt – she did the cooking; she was an excellent cook. My cousin came too – the whole mischpocha. I stayed during the week and my husband came up for the weekends. A lot of people stayed in the same house. Mostly women during the week and then the husbands appeared on the weekends.
Judith Dower
Judith Dower
European refugees went to certain hotels. These were very nice and we had lots of fun. As well as having a good time, most of us met our husbands there. In the evening there were dances, sports during the day and good meals always; everybody ate an awful lot. One year a gentleman whom I knew but was not close with called me and said he would like to come up for the weekend to a hotel at which I was staying. From then on that was it. The hotel was the Takenasi. It was a big place, not one of the best ones, but always full of young people. One year after that weekend, we got married. It was a June wedding.
The ballroom dancing in the evening was wonderful. I learned how to dance from my older brother. He took dancing lessons and I was his practice partner. The hotel had a big swimming pool, golf, tennis and lots of other activities; dancing in the evening was my only sport.
After I got married, I still went up to the mountains, with my little boy. We took a room in a house with my aunt – she did the cooking; she was an excellent cook. My cousin came too – the whole mischpocha. I stayed during the week and my husband came up for the weekends. A lot of people stayed in the same house. Mostly women during the week and then the husbands appeared on the weekends.
Judith Dower
Better than the Beach
Ed Bronstein
When I was a youngster the place to go was the Catskills. My family rented a bungalow in South Fallsberg for two months. I was all of 11 or 12, my brother was 7 or 8 and my sister was three years old. We enjoyed the complete change from the Bronx. We picked blueberries, played cowboys and Indians in the woods and in the evenings listened to the bands in the casino.
In the mornings we would go outside and play on the swings and seesaws, etc. When my father came up on the weekends he would take us to visit historic sights which the Catskills were full of. Later in life, the organization I belonged to had conventions in all the Catskills hotels. The best comics in the world entertained me and I could even dance to the music when the bland played. I always enjoyed the Catskills better than the beach in Atlantic City or anyplace else. We had talent nights, bingo and card games, etc. It was quite an experience.
Ed Bronstein
When I was a youngster the place to go was the Catskills. My family rented a bungalow in South Fallsberg for two months. I was all of 11 or 12, my brother was 7 or 8 and my sister was three years old. We enjoyed the complete change from the Bronx. We picked blueberries, played cowboys and Indians in the woods and in the evenings listened to the bands in the casino.
In the mornings we would go outside and play on the swings and seesaws, etc. When my father came up on the weekends he would take us to visit historic sights which the Catskills were full of. Later in life, the organization I belonged to had conventions in all the Catskills hotels. The best comics in the world entertained me and I could even dance to the music when the bland played. I always enjoyed the Catskills better than the beach in Atlantic City or anyplace else. We had talent nights, bingo and card games, etc. It was quite an experience.
This Trip
Sylvia Goldberg
I met Stanley at the Tamarack Hotel in the summer. It was a very pretty place; they took care of it beautifully. The Tamarack was set up more like a motel – you just drove right up to your rooms. They had bungalows too. There were all sorts of outdoor activities – tennis, shuffleboard, ping pong – and a lot of other things happening on the premises. There was a pool. The hotel had an entire program with meals, dancing and entertainment. The food was delicious. There was always too much to eat and always a lot of choices at every meal. We had a great time. I miss going to those great hotels.
This trip – when I met Stanley -- dates back some time ago. I went with my friends on a Y trip. Stanley came over to me at a dance. He’s as good a dancer as I am. We seemed to click with our conversation and just melded into a nice long relationship – more than 10 years ago….maybe 15 years ago. I didn’t know I was going to meet someone but you never know. You hope for the best. We’re still going together. The rest is history.
I met Stanley at the Tamarack Hotel in the summer. It was a very pretty place; they took care of it beautifully. The Tamarack was set up more like a motel – you just drove right up to your rooms. They had bungalows too. There were all sorts of outdoor activities – tennis, shuffleboard, ping pong – and a lot of other things happening on the premises. There was a pool. The hotel had an entire program with meals, dancing and entertainment. The food was delicious. There was always too much to eat and always a lot of choices at every meal. We had a great time. I miss going to those great hotels.
This trip – when I met Stanley -- dates back some time ago. I went with my friends on a Y trip. Stanley came over to me at a dance. He’s as good a dancer as I am. We seemed to click with our conversation and just melded into a nice long relationship – more than 10 years ago….maybe 15 years ago. I didn’t know I was going to meet someone but you never know. You hope for the best. We’re still going together. The rest is history.
He Wanted Someone to Talk to
Judy Simon
I went to the Catskills with a Riverdale Senior Center group. The hotel was called the Nevele. I remember Irving M. stopping me when I passed his table. He said he wanted someone to talk to. I sat down next to him. I couldn’t get a word in. He talked nonstop, as usual all about himself. He is dead now and we all miss his ego-centric presence.
I’ve been coming to the Simon Senior Center so many years. So many people have left for Florida, died or moved to be with their children. Life goes on! New people join us.
I went to the Catskills with a Riverdale Senior Center group. The hotel was called the Nevele. I remember Irving M. stopping me when I passed his table. He said he wanted someone to talk to. I sat down next to him. I couldn’t get a word in. He talked nonstop, as usual all about himself. He is dead now and we all miss his ego-centric presence.
I’ve been coming to the Simon Senior Center so many years. So many people have left for Florida, died or moved to be with their children. Life goes on! New people join us.
Catskills Honeymoon
Stan Yeamans
On my honeymoon with my first wife, we stayed at the Nevele Hotel in the Catskills, in December, 1947. This was the place to go. We drove up on the Quick Way – which was Route 17. Even though there was snow all over, the roads were clear. The snow was deep and to my amazement, we could walk on top of it without sinking in. I took my wife on a sled for the first time in her life. I was used to belly-whopping – where you go running, fall onto the sled while it’s already moving and careen down a hill, the steeper the better. With her I went down a gentle slope; I remember that we passed by the kitchen. She loved the ride!
On my honeymoon with my first wife, we stayed at the Nevele Hotel in the Catskills, in December, 1947. This was the place to go. We drove up on the Quick Way – which was Route 17. Even though there was snow all over, the roads were clear. The snow was deep and to my amazement, we could walk on top of it without sinking in. I took my wife on a sled for the first time in her life. I was used to belly-whopping – where you go running, fall onto the sled while it’s already moving and careen down a hill, the steeper the better. With her I went down a gentle slope; I remember that we passed by the kitchen. She loved the ride!
Kochalaine Chaos
Sam(Sholom)Kimberg
My family spent many summers in the Borscht Belt – specifically at Schienman’s Cottages in Kerhonkson. Our Model T Ford survived countless trips on Route 17 to the mountains. Our (and thousands of others’) favorite place for a relaxing break was the “Red Apple Rest.” We bucked the crowds from the buses, private cabs, and cars to push our way in to buy a hot dog ($.10), a jelly apple ($.15) Charlotte Ruse ($.10), ice cream ($.10), a shtickle Nestle Chocolate ($.02), a pretzel stick ($.01), and coke ($.05). On Route 17 we passed billboards advertising the big hotels – the Concord, Flagler, Grossingers, Nevele, Fairmount, Brickmans and also touting the entertainment stars – Jackie Mason, Milton Berle, Danny Kaye, Red Buttons, Sammy Davis Jr., Eddie Cantor, Sid Caeser and more. Occasional other billboards advertised camping grounds and camps.
At our bungalow colony, the welcoming committee was my younger brother’s family and our friends, the Reiss family. We then all became busboys and schlepped our belongings to our room. We were a close family – especially in this one room accommodation.
The community kitchen was lined with refrigerators – each door had a label with a name. Here is where most of the arguments occurred.
“You used my milk!” “Who is the mamzer that took my bar of chocolate?” “I’m missing a tomato.” Etc. Most disturbing to me was the mothers walking with utensils in one hand and a food plate in the other. I was always afraid a kid would run into a knife.
The activities included making bonfires and once there toasting marshmallows, putting mickies (potatoes) in the fire, sticking hot dogs on branches and roasting them, singing and talking about the people who were not sitting around the fire. Blueberry picking and apple picking were also popular. My mother was a top apple picker. At times we went to the movies in Ellenville.
As a teenager, one of our shticks was to crash the hotels and dance with the guests. They must have wondered where we disappeared to.
We used a nearby river for swimming. It was a pleasure to hear the mothers’ spilling the cold water on themselves and shouting -- a machaye – a pleasure. We were surrounded by trees and shrubbery, all kinds of birds overhead, deer, wild turkey and, unfortunately, skunks. What else could we ask for?
Some of the main events in my 88 years (kaneinehora) are my birth at 1628 Washington Ave., my schooling at PS 23, PS 51, Morris High School and City College; my Bar Mitzvah at the Prospect Mansion, my summers in the Borscht Belt, my marriage in the Burnside Manor, my 4 years in the army, our wonderful children and grandchildren, and enjoying our second home at the Riverdale Y’s Simon Senior Center.
My family spent many summers in the Borscht Belt – specifically at Schienman’s Cottages in Kerhonkson. Our Model T Ford survived countless trips on Route 17 to the mountains. Our (and thousands of others’) favorite place for a relaxing break was the “Red Apple Rest.” We bucked the crowds from the buses, private cabs, and cars to push our way in to buy a hot dog ($.10), a jelly apple ($.15) Charlotte Ruse ($.10), ice cream ($.10), a shtickle Nestle Chocolate ($.02), a pretzel stick ($.01), and coke ($.05). On Route 17 we passed billboards advertising the big hotels – the Concord, Flagler, Grossingers, Nevele, Fairmount, Brickmans and also touting the entertainment stars – Jackie Mason, Milton Berle, Danny Kaye, Red Buttons, Sammy Davis Jr., Eddie Cantor, Sid Caeser and more. Occasional other billboards advertised camping grounds and camps.
At our bungalow colony, the welcoming committee was my younger brother’s family and our friends, the Reiss family. We then all became busboys and schlepped our belongings to our room. We were a close family – especially in this one room accommodation.
The community kitchen was lined with refrigerators – each door had a label with a name. Here is where most of the arguments occurred.
“You used my milk!” “Who is the mamzer that took my bar of chocolate?” “I’m missing a tomato.” Etc. Most disturbing to me was the mothers walking with utensils in one hand and a food plate in the other. I was always afraid a kid would run into a knife.
The activities included making bonfires and once there toasting marshmallows, putting mickies (potatoes) in the fire, sticking hot dogs on branches and roasting them, singing and talking about the people who were not sitting around the fire. Blueberry picking and apple picking were also popular. My mother was a top apple picker. At times we went to the movies in Ellenville.
As a teenager, one of our shticks was to crash the hotels and dance with the guests. They must have wondered where we disappeared to.
We used a nearby river for swimming. It was a pleasure to hear the mothers’ spilling the cold water on themselves and shouting -- a machaye – a pleasure. We were surrounded by trees and shrubbery, all kinds of birds overhead, deer, wild turkey and, unfortunately, skunks. What else could we ask for?
Some of the main events in my 88 years (kaneinehora) are my birth at 1628 Washington Ave., my schooling at PS 23, PS 51, Morris High School and City College; my Bar Mitzvah at the Prospect Mansion, my summers in the Borscht Belt, my marriage in the Burnside Manor, my 4 years in the army, our wonderful children and grandchildren, and enjoying our second home at the Riverdale Y’s Simon Senior Center.
Winter Nights
The wind is soaring
with a swishing sound,
Batches of snow lie on the ground,
Naked trees dressed
in white, resemble ghosts
in the cold winter night.
The glittering moon
sheds its light
Around
Over the snowy
hills
and frozen ponds.
Helen Zuberman
with a swishing sound,
Batches of snow lie on the ground,
Naked trees dressed
in white, resemble ghosts
in the cold winter night.
The glittering moon
sheds its light
Around
Over the snowy
hills
and frozen ponds.
Helen Zuberman
April 2, 2006, 85th Birthday
In Memoriam – this poem was written by Senior Center member Charlotte Friedman, a rare and beautiful person, who left this world on November 25, 2006
Now I am five and eighty
You’d think I’d be quite wise
You’d think I’d learned a thing or two
Like how to organize
my stuff.
But something’s always interfering
With what I plan to do
I make a list that’s six feet long
And accomplish only two,
tasks, that is.
My lists are full of promise
Each job will be complete
The phone will ring
Oh…I’ve got time
I’ll make a pile that’s neat,
or two, or three.
Each list has the same old line
See Yesterday – it’s in bold type
Or sometimes – see Previous
So full of hope -- I have no gripe
Compulsion, never a part of me
To get things done, to hurry
To force myself to finish a task
No part of this personality
Better late than never
My mother always said.
I took the first two words to heart
And there they stayed, innate, inbred.
Now let me think a little bit
Of times gone by and still to come
How loved ones I have many
Who keep me from getting glum,
The family who surrounds me
and makes my life complete,
So what if I have piles of stuff
Divesting’s an enormous feat.
Now I am five and eighty
I’ve sown a long, long row
Hoed up and back and sideways
Hope more a row to sow.
Experiences: many
Shocked at times
At times of death scared
Mistakes enough for two lives
Accept all. Do not be sad.
Now I am five and eighty
Still thrill to sunset’s glow
No longer look for meaning
Just live and love and sow.
Now I am five and eighty
You’d think I’d be quite wise
You’d think I’d learned a thing or two
Like how to organize
my stuff.
But something’s always interfering
With what I plan to do
I make a list that’s six feet long
And accomplish only two,
tasks, that is.
My lists are full of promise
Each job will be complete
The phone will ring
Oh…I’ve got time
I’ll make a pile that’s neat,
or two, or three.
Each list has the same old line
See Yesterday – it’s in bold type
Or sometimes – see Previous
So full of hope -- I have no gripe
Compulsion, never a part of me
To get things done, to hurry
To force myself to finish a task
No part of this personality
Better late than never
My mother always said.
I took the first two words to heart
And there they stayed, innate, inbred.
Now let me think a little bit
Of times gone by and still to come
How loved ones I have many
Who keep me from getting glum,
The family who surrounds me
and makes my life complete,
So what if I have piles of stuff
Divesting’s an enormous feat.
Now I am five and eighty
I’ve sown a long, long row
Hoed up and back and sideways
Hope more a row to sow.
Experiences: many
Shocked at times
At times of death scared
Mistakes enough for two lives
Accept all. Do not be sad.
Now I am five and eighty
Still thrill to sunset’s glow
No longer look for meaning
Just live and love and sow.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Piece of Clothing
Ed Bronstein
My first suit was bought for me by my mother – I was only seven or eight years old -- we were going to a wedding. My mother’s friend was getting married. I hated wearing a suit, tie and all the other mishagas!! It was so constricting!! I could hardly move! I lasted through the whole affair. But, when I got home I tore off my clothes and was elated to be rid of that suit. For the next affair that suit was passed on to my brother (he was five years younger than me). This time I wore a better constructed suit which was much less constricting.
My first suit was bought for me by my mother – I was only seven or eight years old -- we were going to a wedding. My mother’s friend was getting married. I hated wearing a suit, tie and all the other mishagas!! It was so constricting!! I could hardly move! I lasted through the whole affair. But, when I got home I tore off my clothes and was elated to be rid of that suit. For the next affair that suit was passed on to my brother (he was five years younger than me). This time I wore a better constructed suit which was much less constricting.
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