Memories of a Bronx Childhood
I have reached that age where childhood memories have become as vivid as my adult ones. It’s not that my 1940s childhood was full of drama. I had few traumatic experiences, though I do remember, as an innocent, uncomprehending five year old, a queasy encounter with an insidious stranger who wanted to buy me candy. There are also no oppressive family dynamics, nor thrilling adventures, that I recall. Instead, what I can resurrect are countless everyday images and incidents. What I remember are the street games– marbles, red light-green light, pitching and flipping baseball tickets, hit the penny, slug, box ball, off the stoop, the more daring ringolevio, and the more athletically demanding punch ball. We played in whatever space could be utilized–from ample schoolyards to oddly configured apartment... Read more...
