New York City, New York

New York City, New York

Suzanne Marsh

August 8th, 1958

Dear Dad,

I can’t sleep; it is so hot here. When are you coming to get Mom and me? The temperature today was ninety-six. I can’t play outside, it is too hot. The cement is hot. Grandma had one fan

Please come and get us now.

Your loving daughter,

Sue

That was my first of many letters I wrote my dad while visiting my grandmother in Brooklyn, New York. The close proximity of the buildings added to the heat. I loved my grandmother; I hated Brooklyn. Most of the time, Mom and I would go by train, and Dad would come down to pick us up. I remember when the fire department would come and open the fire hydrants, and water would evaporate so quickly. Even the water was warm.

Mom and Dad both grew up in Brooklyn, so they were both familiar with the sights and sounds of the city. Mom took me for a boat ride around Manhattan. It was slightly cooler by the water. I also remember being on the Staten Island Ferry, which was a cool experience. When Dad came down, we went on the seventy-ninth Street ferry. That was great fun. The following day, vacation started; we went to Boston, Massachusetts, that year.

I could always count on Mom when it came to going to New York City to see Grandma. Mom took me to the Bronx Zoo. That zoo had camel and elephant rides. The camel spit as we walked by; of course, I wanted to ride the camel. The camel had an odd odor. Mom made me wash my hands after I climbed off. The Bronx Zoo was a wonderful place to spend an afternoon. Mom took me to see the " lions and tigers and bears, oh my." Mom had purchased a small bag of peanuts; the black bears sat on their haunches; it was almost funny to watch them motion to us to throw the peanut. I tossed a peanut, and a bear caught it. Mom tried but missed the bear; we never did see where the peanut went!

The following summer, Mom took me to see the Bowery and Chinatown. The Bowery smelled terribly. Chinatown was way more interesting. Mom took me shopping, and I came back with blue silk pajamas, navy blue beaded slippers, and an abacus; I never did learn how to use it correctly. I still have the abacus in a desk drawer; I still can’t use it. Mom thought maybe I would enjoy math more with an abacus, but all it did was frustrate me. While at grandma’s, my mom’s younger brother came to visit; he taught me the rudiments of playing the piano. Although chopsticks did nothing for me, I did learn to play it much to the chagrin of my first piano instructor; that is an entirely different story.

Mom also took me to see the Statue of Liberty. We took the elevator at the base of the statue, which was fine. Then we began the arduous climb up the stairs. The stairs wind circularly; we were only allowed into the crown. Mom and I looked out of the windows that are in the crown. Then it was time to descend, there was only one small problem, the stairs were narrow in the crown. I began to balk; I was not going back down those stairs for my mom or anyone else. Mom knew I could be stubborn, but had no idea how stubborn. I refused to go back down those stairs; Mom told me Grandma would not be happy if we were late for dinner. Finally, she convinced me to go back down.

Mom, the next day, decided we should visit the Empire State Building. I was now leery of heights after the trip to the Statue of Liberty; the Empire State Building really instilled a fear of heights. On a clear day, you can see landmarks such as Lower Manhattan, the Statue of Liberty, Central Park, and the East River. I made a mistake, I looked over the top of the observation deck located on the eighty-sixth floor, I was a long way up, and my stomach did a flip-flop.

The subway was not my cup of tea; it remains so even today. I remember as a child seeing a woman with her arm caught in the door. It made quite an impression on me. Mom had a terrible time getting me on the subway car after that incident. Unfortunately for me, the subway was the quickest way to get from point “A” to point “B”. The bus took forever, and the diesel fumes were horrible in the summer.

Mom took me to visit a friend of hers in Scarsdale, which required the bus and several subway trains. The three of us went to Schraffs; they had the best Hot Fudge Sundays any child or adult could ask for. That was my treat for behaving myself. They also had wonderful mints, and my sweet tooth had a wonderful day. I became very adept at hopping into the subway car, mom smiled at my agility. Mom also taught me to play hopsi, a New York City version of hopscotch. The girl down the street and I played for hours on end; hopsi was a lot of fun back in the day.

Grandma took me shopping with her one afternoon; we walked from Fifty-First Street to the A & P. If my memory serves me, it was several blocks down and several blocks over. Grandma had a small fridge with an even smaller freezer. How she managed to get a box of popsicles in there, I will never know. She also bought me Yoo Hoo, it was a thin chocolate drink that tasted great on hot days.

On one of my last trips to Brooklyn with my mom, we flew down on a DC-6. It was Tante May’s twenty-fifth anniversary as a Sister of Saint Joseph. We were supposed to land at La Guardia Airport; however, the January thaw was in full swing. La Guardia was fogged in, so the pilot, in his infinite amount of wisdom, flew to Newark Airport, which obviously was also fogged in; he then tried Idlewild Airport, same thing, it was fogged in. One hour later, the pilot came over the intercom:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be landing at Idlewild Airport. We are almost out of fuel!”

We landed at Idlewild and began our trek to Grandma’s, which constituted Rockaway to Brooklyn. It was midnight when we finally arrived. The following day, we went to the celebration. I will never forget that on Wednesday, Mom had checked, we would be flying out of LaGuardia. I was not getting on another plane, so I pitched a full-fledged temper tantrum. Mom tried to bribe me, but that wasn’t going to work. I told her I could stay with Grandma, and Dad could come and get me. She told me this was a better plane, it was an Electra, which was also a prop plane, just like the DC-6, only more modern.

January 31st, 1965, Grandma passed away; Dad and I drove down, stopped in Utica to pick up a few of my cousins. Grandma lay peacefully in her coffin; there were people that my mom knew that I did not. One lady of Hungarian descent gave me hug bear hug, thinking I was my aunt. I gasped as I began going through my mom’s nicknames: Betzy, Lou, Lou Lou, Kay. I was running out of options, and finally, she realized that I was not my aunt. We buried grandma in the catholic cemetery; I asked my dad, not to quietly, why there was another person in grandma’s grave. He informed me:

“They are buried four deep here; those are your grandparents and great-grandparents.”

That was my last trip to New York City, until my husband began driving a big rig. We were there several times. One load was baled rages, as we went past, I saw the Avenue of Americas. I turned a little more, and there was Grandma’s house. Somehow, a cycle seemed to be complete.