August (1945); Beach Haven, NJ

Most every year, our neighbors Mike and Jude, spend some time at the Jersey shore.  When they leave for the East, I feel a little envy and a lot of nostalgia for that place...and another time.

WWII (for America) started in December, 1941.  I was almost 6 years old.  In early 1942, my father enlisted in a USNavy officer training program.  He was 32 years old.  He was gone until the war was over in 1945, except for a few brief shore leaves when his ship returned to the East Coast.

We lived in Oakmont, PA, a suburb of Philadelphia, just four blocks from my mother's parents, my Grandad and Nana.  Also living with my grandparents were my aunt Norma and my cousins Alice and Ada.  Ada  is just 10 months older than I am, and we attended the same grade at Oakmont Grade School for several years.  Oakmont School was just across the trolley tracks from my grandparents house.  Just a few miles away was my mother's other sister, Ethel, her husband Henry, and my other cousins George and Shirley. For those years, when my father was away, I spent a lot of time at my grandparents' house.

For quite a few years during and after the war, my grandfather would rent a large summer house in Beach Haven, NJ, for the whole month of August.  And most all of the family would go down there for the month.  What great freedom and fun we had then.

Beach Haven is one town on a long, narrow island called Long Beach Island.  Basically a giant sand bar, about 15 miles long and averaging about four blocks wide.  Beach Haven is about 20 miles north of Atlantic City, but I don't remember ever going there.

The various rental houses were simple, rustic summer places.  Usually with an ice box; the ice man came every other day with a huge block of ice slung over his shoulder, and threw it into the ice box.  Also, an outdoor shower to wash off the sand before coming into the house.

Bicycles allowed us kids to roam far and wide.  Alice and Shirley, a few years older than Ada and I, always managed to meet some boys.  One time their summer boy friends, one of whom was named Buddy, caught a huge ray, and they decided to bury it in the sand just to the side of the house.  After a few days, a terrible stench arose.

No one was concerned about our safety, except that Aunt Norma forbade us from going into the water for an hour after we ate lunch.  The beach was only a block or two away, with large sand dunes, and easy surf.  The bay on the other side of the island was shallow for many yards; we could walk far out into the bay and only be up to our waist in water.

Just a few blocks away, there was a movie theatre and a ice cream parlor; think banana splits.  Beach Haven had a boardwalk with arcade games, tchotchkes shops and salt water taffy.  Also, every August a carnival came to town for a week or two, with a ferris wheel, other rides, side shows, candy cotton, and those strange-looking people who were clearly part of the traveling show.

Norma took Ada and me for my first ferris wheel ride.  I was terrified that the seat was going to roll over backwards, so I kept pressing against the flimsy-looking wooden bar in our laps; Norma was sure that was going to pop loose and we would all fall out the front.  After a couple of spins around the wheel, I was able to calm down somewhat.  (Years later, my mother took me for my first roller coaster ride, and I was even more convinced then that my life was about to end.)

In 1945, Ada and I were quartered in the attic of the house.  There was a wind-up Victrola with one 78-rpm record: Chopin's Polonaise.  So we played that ad infinitum.  I love it to this day.

August 15, 1945.  We were in the house when we heard a lot of yelling and car horns, so we dashed outside to find out what was happening.  It was V-J day; the war with Japan was over.  Car horns were blasting, and people were throwing streamers of some sort into the air (rolls of TP?).

Hiroshima was nine days earlier, August 6.  I was nine years old.  I don't remember anyone talking about the atom bomb that we had dropped on that city, or the terrible death and destruction it had caused.  We were just glad the war was over.  My father would be coming home.

(About seven years later, because I now had a driver's license, my family went down to Beach Haven again for a couple of weeks.  Myself and another boy met two girls and spent a lot of time with them.  my summer girl's name was Linda.  The morning my family was to drive back to Philadelphia, I asked my father if I could take the car for a brief visit to where Linda was staying, to say goodbye.  It was the first Buick of several that he eventually owned.  I drove over the Linda's and said goodbye.  Then I backed up the Buick while turning, unaware of the telephone pole just next to the car.  This ended in a big fat dimple in the front fender.  I was sure my father would explode.  If he did, I have blanked it from my memory.  Below are me and Linda on the right, the other couple, names long forgotten, on the left, and the Buick behind us.)

These vacations ended on the Saturday of Labor Day weekend.  Before that, Ada and I would each get an old shoe box, and go into the bay and gather a collection of sea shells, which we would take home as a mementos of another fun August at the  Beach Haven.  Then into the car, and the drive back to Philly.  School was about to start.

Emergency Contact Please

Every Monday morning at the SOVA West food bank where I volunteer, there is a short staff meeting at 9:15AM to brief the volunteers on the latest things they need to know, such as what food items are in stock or not in stock, what job fairs or free medical clinics are coming up, etc.

On recent Mondays, Dennis, our pantry manager, has been asking the volunteers who do intake with the clients (of which I am one), to try to get an emergency name and phone number for each client, so that should there be a need in the future, we would know whom to contact.

Later that morning I overheard this conversation:

Intake Volunteer:
"We would like to have an emergency name and phone number for you in case it was needed.  Can you give me a number?"

Client:
"Oh yes.  Call 911."

"Conservation" during WWII

My friend Joan, a fellow volunteer at the SOVA food pantry, recently sent me a humorous piece about the "green thing", which now means being environmentally conscious, and what Americans did long ago (when Joan and I were kids), with our trash and other environmentally sensitive issues.

This got me to thinking about things we did during WWII.  Our objective was not to save the environment.  Rather it was to win the war,  But it did have some environmental side effects.  I was almost 6 when that war began, and I was 9-1/2 when it ended.

Here are the things that I can remember:

• We planted Victory Gardens.  There was a large plot of undeveloped land up the block from our house.  (After the war, a developer built 3 or 4 homes there.)  Many in the neighborhood staked out areas in it and planted gardens.  I think my mother and I worked a small area.
• We collected newspapers.  Myself and several friends went door-to-door in the neighborhood and collected used newspapers.  We tied them up in bundles about 8 or 9 inches high.  Our next-door neighbors, the Robinsons, donated their garage to this effort, and we came close to filling it up with newspaper bundles stacked very high.  Eventually, some men came and hauled the papers away somewhere; I'm sure that helped the war effort.
• We collected the tin foil that was then used to wrap chewing gum and balled it up into balls about the size of a baseball.
• We collected rubber bands and wound them upon each other making balls of rubber bands, also about the size of a baseball.
• Finally we filled stamp books with saving stamps that we bought at school.  I think the stamps cost one or two cents each.  When the book was full, we took it to school and exchanged it for a savings bond.  I suspect that these savings stamp books were the forerunners to the S&H Green stamp books that were to come after the war.

Finally, there was rationing.  This did not impact me much, but was a concern for my mother.  This included allotments for meat, butter, eggs, sugar and gasoline.  Perhaps we should have just kept the limits, especially on the meat and gasoline!!

Raking Autumn Leaves

https://www.nytimes.com/…/red-state-liberal-leaf-blowers.ht…

Thanks, Margaret Renal, for your column today: "Raking Leaves on a Windy Day". It brought up a lot of sweet memories for me. 

I grew up in a suburb of Philadelphia in the 1940’s. In the fall, I would help my dad rake up the leaves in both the front yard (maples) and the back yard (a huge weeping willow tree). In those days, a wide-spread custom was to rake the leaves into the street, into a big pile. Part of the joy was doing something with my dad, who was not a big one for a lot of father/son activities. They often involved work: washing the car on a summer Sunday afternoon, or raking up leaves in the autumn.

Then the kids would jump into the pile (just because it was fun to do; try not to hit your head on the curb), and then we would light them on fire and burn them. (In those days, we also burned our trash in a big burn barrel in the back yard). Sometimes the leaves were dry, and would burn quickly. Sometimes they were damp, and would burn slowly. But either way, there was a wonderful odor that lingered in the air (unless it was a windy day.) I still remember it from long ago.

On December 7,1941 (I was almost 6), in mid-afternoon, we were raking and then burning leaves. A neighbor ran out of his house and shouted out: “The Japs have attacked Pearl Harbor”. 

WWII had begun for America. My dad signed up, and spent most of the next four years at war in the USNavy. I stayed home and raked the leaves by myself.

Obscure MLB Record Tied....and we were there!!

My friend Armin gave Nadine and I two tickets to the Dodgers/Mets game last Monday, Labor Day.  Right behind the Dodger dugout, 2nd row!!  We went with Armin and his friend Thomas, a big Mets fan.

The game was very tight, 1-1 at the end of eight innings.  But the Mets took the lead with a 3-run homer in the top of the 9th, and although the Dodgers did score one run in their at bat, they could do no more, so the Mets won 4-2.

I had told my brother Stan some time ago that we were going to this game, and about the very good seats we would be in.  He knew I was excited to go.

After the game, he sends me this text message:
"Jacob deGrom pitched his 25th consecutive start allowing 3 or fewer runs.  He tied a MLB record held by King Cole, who did it for the Cubs in 1910."

My first reaction was "who nu?"  There was no announcement at the game (because it did not celebrate a Dodger?), and no mention in the newspapers the next day.

I started to get suspicious; was my brother pulling my leg, that a record was matched at this game, and I was not aware of it?  And who could be named "King Cole"?  A merry old soul?  A pop singer?  But not a MLB player.  So I decided to check Wikipedia; here's what it said:

"Leonard Leslie "King" Cole (April 15, 1886 – January 6, 1916) was a professional baseball player in the early 20th century. He started his baseball career as a pitcher with the Chicago Cubs in 1909. In 1910, he had a record of 20-4 and helped win a National League pennant for the Cubs. On July 31, 1910, he became the first Cubs pitcher to throw a no-hitter, defeating the St. Louis Cardinals 4-0 in a seven inning game. His 20-4 record is the best winning percentage (.866) for a Cub pitcher in the 20th century. Cole was traded to the Pittsburgh Pirates, and then the New York Yankees. On October 2, 1914, Cole gave up a double to Babe Ruth–Ruth's first hit in the Major Leagues.  In 1915, Cole was diagnosed with cancer, and died shortly after the end of the 1915 season."

No mention of the "25-game" record.  But Stan insists he heard it on ESPN, when he went there to find out how the game turned out.  So now my question to him is: 

What MLB pitcher has started his most consecutive games allowing 2 or fewer runs?

A coincidence:

It was 108 years between Cole's record (1910) and deGrom's matching it (2018).

It was 108 years between the Cubs winning their 2nd World Series (1908) and their next one (2016).

The dawn of TV

Walter is another volunteer at the SOVA food pantry on Pico Blvd.  About my age, still practicing some law, but brings donated food from Nelsons several mornings a week in his brand-new black Mercedes.  Also, repackages the eggs, which come to use in bulk boxes, but which SOVA distributes in half-dozens.  Last week, while unloading his car, Walter twisted his ankle tore a ligament; will have to wear a "boot" for a while.

Walter grew up in the 1940s on Orange Grove Ave, one block from Canters Deli.  Fairfax Ave was then a heart of Jewish LA.  Canters moved there from east LA in the 1930s.  I pick up day-old baked goods on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays there, and take them to SOVA.

Walter's grandfather would take an old fruit crate, and sit on the corner and schmooze with his friends.

After the war (WWII), a radio and appliance store across Fairfax from Canters began selling TVs also.  Walter and his grandfather would take crates, and sit on the sidewalk and watch (at first in silence) the pictures in the black-and-white TVs in the store window.  Some months later, (perhaps feeling sorry for his viewers out front?), the store owner mounted a speaker out on the sidewalk, and Walter and his grandfather were then able to hear the sound as well!

Canters is still there after about 80 years at this Fairfax location.  The servers are still somewhat abrupt, what one expects in a Jewish deli.  The interior looks like it has not been remodeled since the opening, a bizarre back-lit ceiling in the main dining room.  Obama visited during his reign; photos on the wall.  But many Jews have moved further west by now, and the neighborhood is changing, with hip coffee shops and trendy stores taking over.

Cutting in Line

Tonight, we went to the weekly Sunday night classical music concert at LACMA.  (Every Sunday night, one hour, and free!)  Always a interesting and rewarding event.  The line was longer than we have ever seen before, because it was a large orchestra from the Coburn School of Music, ages 13 thru 18, and there were a lot of parents and grandparents and siblings in the audience.

Reminded me of my aunt Norma, who took her daughter, my cousin Ada,  and me often to the movies.  Norma was childlike and had a lot of flaws and difficulties in her life, but she could also be fun to be with, at least for me (not sure how it was for Ada.)

Norma would take us 69th Street in Philadelphia.  This was sort of on the boarder between the city, and the surrounding suburbs.  It was where the subway ended, and the beginning for the suburban street cars.  There was a lot of shopping there, and at least two big movie theaters.

When the three of us would get to the theatre, there would often be a long line, even during the day.  So, Norma would approach some good soul who was near the front of the line, and ask them if they would purchase our tickets when they bought theirs.  She always found someone who was willing to do it, and she would give them the money.  They would buy the tickets, give our tickets to Norma, and in we would go, ahead of all the other people in the line.

Norma did not have many scruples.  I thought it was very clever, but somewhat questionable.  But I did not object.

After these movies, we would often go to a nearby ice cream shop for banana splits: vanilla, chocolate and strawberry ice cream, on a split banana, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, nuts and a maraschino cherry on top!!