I remember the blizzard of 1947 when the
city was at a standstill. The mountains of snow piled along the sidewalks were
this kid’s dream. I had a wooden sled. My brothers convinced me that it was far
superior to the flexible flyers that the other kids had. I remember playing
for hours on that sled. When our mittens got wet, we placed them on the
radiators to dry. Meanwhile, we went outside with socks on our hands. This
worked just fine.
Maybe once a year in the summer, we went to
Coney Island. I remember my father taking us one time. Mostly my mother took us
on those safaris to Coney Island. We were allowed one ride each on the Steeple
Chase. Since I was too young or too afraid to go on it, or on the racehorses,
the cyclone, or on the slides, I got to go on the merry-go-round.
Dotsy c. 1949. |
Mostly, we went to Cypress Hills’ swimming
pool. We took the El train from Chauncey St. and Broadway Ave. After a couple
of stops, we got off and were right by the pool. Most people didn’t know, or
maybe they have forgotten, about the roller skating rink that was in the back
of the pool. It was part of the same recreation facility. Once we got to the
pool, if the weather looked like rain, we would opt to skate.
Swimming was my preference, but my sister,
Dot, loved to skate. She was very good at skating. As time went by, she would
take me skating every weekend, sometimes on both Saturday and Sunday.
Dotsy could dance on the skates and was
determined to master every glide, turn, and move possible. How she put up with
me, I’ll never know. I did learn a dance called the glide waltz. Once, Uncle
Chuck was at the rink and was duly impressed with our performance. Of course,
Dot just about carried me through the routine, so we would look good.
Lou c. 1954 |
After a while, Dot learned where other rinks
in the area were located. We traveled to Hillside Rink and the Empire Rink.
Dotsy acquired a pair of competition skates and continued perfecting routines.
In time, she met the floor guard at the Empire Rink. And here, entered her
future love and husband, Lou.
© 2013, Patricia Jones
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