For those of you who miss the" Archie comics" and always wondered what really went on behind the scenes in the television show "Happy Days", join MamaDiva this month as she explores Brooklyn in the 1950's, in those pre silicone days when "breast augmentation" still involved a box of Kleenex.
Mama Diva's Brooklyn Memories, this month:
Summer in the City, circa 1940, happiness is...
"Happiness is: Happiness is not best achieved by those who seek it directly"
-Bertrand Russell-
This brings to mind the first time I opened the New York Post and visited the cartoon section ( circa 1957) and fell in love with Charlie Brown and his dog Snoopy: there it was "Happiness is a-warm puppy."
From then on the phrase encapsulated my thinking as to what happiness could be growing up in the 40's.
Grandma Bessie lived on the lower east side of Manhattan - immigrants from all over filled the tenements. Every Sunday we filed into the station wagon and trekked over the Brooklyn Bridge for a special time with Baba. Climbing the stairs to the third floor and making room for the iceman, who, strapped to his back, carried a block of ice to transport into the icebox .
After our breakfast feast of fried salmon latkes smothered in onions on fabulous bialy' rolls, we waved to our neighbours across the alley and through the clothesline we traded comic books with our new friends.
We clothespinned the comics to the clothesline and our counterparts pulled them into their window. We had a fun exchange that went on back and forth at every visit. When we decided to go out to play my Baba devised a plan that if we should get hungry, rather than climbing all those stairs for an apple she lowered snacks down to the street through the window.
A paper bag with a hole punched a hole and threading it with some twine, filled with apples and licorice . Carefully, through the window she lowered the treats into our waiting hands.
Back at home in Brooklyn, what did happiness mean? Could it or would it be just a dessert? A crowning finale to a ho-hum supper - a canned Del Monte half peach soaked in slippery sugary syrup carrying its burden of creamy vanilla ice cream minus the clear rasberry sauce?
Namely, a Peach Melba aptly named after an Australian Diva. Rasberry sauce was a treat to be had at an ice cream parlour. At home, Hershey chocolate syrup was the link to imbibing our daily dosage of milk.
So happiness was… growing up with a Hershey bar and cracker jacks.
On a more esoteric level we read Nancy Drew mysteries, Nurse Cherry Ames, Grimm's Fairy Tales and played Chinese Checkers.
When we wanted our future foretold we closed the big lights and took out the Ouji board. Will we be happy? Will we be sad? What is the meaning of life and what does it hold for an 11 year old?
Radio was our communications lifeline.
Unaware that television would soon be born, it was radio shows like The Shadow, Amos and Andy, George Burns and Gracie Allen that would entertain and light up our lives around the kitchen table .
But happiness was the greatest when the war ended and the boys came home; that is, the lucky ones.
There were block parties on every street. Music (phonograph records) a Master of ceremonies standing on an orange crate, and food, glorious food set out in front of each home on the street.
The women cooked their lasagnes and linguines , desserts and jugs of wine. It was a Bachannalian party - without the sex. The parties went on through the evening.
Permission was given by the police so the streets were cordoned off so there was no thru traffic and the dancing started. Their were 'horas' and 'sambas' and 'jive', a tantalizing venue of everything goes.
The soldiers were our heroes as was Truman and Eisenhower, and this was the start of something BIG - the good life, but not always the simple life.
So, perhaps one day I will visit the Treetops Hotel in Kenya and simply observe the wildlife in comfort and safety. After all we are related simians*-+-+.
Contact Mama Diva at 5a7@avivalasvegas.com. Make sure to put Mama Diva in the subject line.
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