Food, You Were Too Dear To Me - Part 3

The presentation to an eight year old that not only does she have some extra weight that she must lose but all the good times at McDonald's and the unrestricted ability to eat as she please was about to cease, seemed like really scary experiences ahead.

I was told a story from a friend at work about a similar experience she had gone through with her child. When she and her husband attempted to get their daughter to stop eating extra sugar, they found candy hidden in the oddest places around the house. When they were able to put a stop to this, they then got calls from the school about how the child was overeating and eating unhealthy there since she could not do it at home. In other words, their daughter felt she was justified to lie and hide food in order to continue fulfilling the need that she had to fulfill what she was missing. My wife and I could only pray that we did not have to deal with the issues that this couple did.

We sat our daughter down and explained that it would be better for her health if she cut out the sweets and the junk foods. We also made it clear that nothing else would change, like the weekend outings and the trips to the toy store when she and her sister were good. Her answer to all of this was "Okay". We waited for the "Willy Wonka" revolution but there was none..

As the months rolled by, we were amazed by the reaction of our daughter. She followed every food restriction without a fuss. She ran and played as she had always done and the new dietary routine that was set up for her simply became part of her life. By the time she was nine years old, it was amazing to see the difference in the way she looked.

As much as I would like to take a big part of the credit for the weight reduction, there was another factor going on which was really driving the little guinea pig. As much as my wife and I wanted her to lose the weight for her health, our daughter wanted to follow through with the program because SHE wanted to look a certain way. She was headed towards teenage years and wanted to change her image. It seemed that the little darling had a master plan of her own.

I worried for a while that she would relapse and gain the weight back but that never happened. I guess she liked the way that she looked

Here she is at age ten, then age eleven and then age twelve,

By age thirteen there was no stopping her. The love and concern that she had gotten from her parents helped but the dream that she had and the love that she had for herself is what drove her across the finish line and beyond. Not only is she she still my little cutey but she is a true inspiration for me. She made me as a father proud that she was so determined and she succeeded. The End.

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Food, You Were Too Dear To Me - Part 2

Between the ages of five and six, my lovely daughter had gained some extra weight. Perhaps you can tell the slight difference.

I guess the problem was that my wife and I couldn't see it. Being so close to the angel caused us as parent to say things like "She hasn't really gained that much" or "Her body is just going through a change" or the ever popular "It's just baby fat. She'll grow out of it soon." By age seven she was still growing but she looked so cute.

Life was going along smoothly with the whole denial thing. It was only mother nature we said to ourselves. We loved our daughter too much to possibly be responsible for her gaining. As loving and protective as we were, that just could not be so. Unfortunately, during the next visit to the pediatrician, we were in for a rude awakening.

Usually the our visits were friendly and I tried to be humble with all the compliments being thrown in my direction but this time Dr. Bombay blasted us both for being inattentive parents. He said that her weight gain was too fast and we were not taking what was happening to her body seriously. Finally he said that there was no need for this kind of weight gain and we needed to seriously do something about it or what was happening might affect her for the rest of her life.

Well blow me down and call me Elmer but I could not have been more embarrassed. We were given pamphlets and written instructions on what the child should and should not be eating. The junk food and any kind of fatty foods were definitely out of the question and this is not to mention sweets of any kind. We now had to admit that we had been loose and free with the "showing our love through food" game. We were the responsible parties.

We knew that we could cut off the pipeline but how was our little darling going to react when we told her that there would be no more Flintstone Dinosaur-Burgers? We were about to find out.

Our eight year old darling would hopefully understand.

To be continued...........




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Food, You Were Too Dear To Me - Part 1

I'd like to thank my daughter for my being able to do this piece because without her permission, she would have killed me.

When you are a caring parent, you have so much love for your child that sometimes you think that your heart might really burst. The first time you see that little face, you want to give them the world. This is the story of loving parents, their first child and food.

As my daughter grew, that feeling of giving of things also grew as a reflection of the love that my wife and I were trying to express. How could you help but want to give extra to this sweet little innocent?

This is especially true when the child is compliant and accepting of the rules that are being placed upon them. We as new parents were trying to learn our way through the perils of child/adult growth but the fact that our little one was always a such happy baby, made the entire experience one of life's greatest pleasures.

To see your child growing up healthy and smart was a blessing. That also made us want to have other children (as you can see) but that's a story for another day.

By age five, this little wise-cracker seemed to have her father's sarcastic sense of humor but never in a mean way. How could I help but spoil her? And this is where lies the danger, waiting to pounce like a hungry turkey leg.











With the invention of the Happy Meal from McDonald's, we found that  that in addition to the food, the toys were a wonderful treat for them. These simple pleasures seemed to make them so happy. Don't get me wrong. I am not blaming McDonald's for their food being healthy or otherwise. My blame is aimed squarely on we the parents. We loved to shower our children with things that they liked but what we were not paying attention to was that when it comes to food, everyone's body is affected differently.

By age six, the extra love through nutrition was beginning to catch up with her. It all seemed to happen very quickly but it really didn't. What happened next was a child with unnecessary extra weight and a very angry pediatrician.

To be continued .........


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Obsession with the Movie Chair - Part 2

D-Box - My Obsession is Complete.

Let me simply say that I do not impress easily. It took about twenty years to get it right and it's time has come.

Ever since the advent of the VHS and Betamax (remember those?) videocassette players, movie goers have been slowly drifting out of movie theaters and into the privacy of their homes. Complex surround sound and even 3-D has certainly added to the enjoyment of the home-theater experience but what's next? Seems like replicating the theater experience at home will always be close behind if you are just a little patient but I think not this time.  

The simple red chair that you see here is going to revolutionize the movie industry and bring thrill seekers out of their homes in droves. What better way to enjoy a 3-D movie than with a 4-D chair which will envelop and move you to the action which is surrounding you. Can you imagine the speed and the thrill of race car movies? Can you imagine how your skin will crawl as you are watching a 3-D horror movie sequence and you are suddenly throw into the action? I can. Presently this reality is available in 50 theaters across the nation and the number is growing.

I love my larger than life LCD television and my powerful sound system but they will soon not be complete without the chair. There's not much chance to own one of these chairs at home any time soon so if you want the experience you must go to the theater. You all know where I will be so see you soon.

 Take a look at this three minute video if you have any doubts that you are seeing the future. After all. Why do you think they call them "movies." 

If you'd like to learn more about the chair, go to: D-Box

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Obsession with the Movie Chair - Part 1

August 26, 1995  - Cinetropolis

Okay, I will admit it. I've been obsessed with movies all of my life. I desperately enjoy the big screen, the sound effects and the feeling that for a short while, I can lose myself in the fantasy which is burning in front of me.

During the summer of 1995, I sat watching some geek technical show on a Saturday morning. Little did I know that I would be pulled in a new direction. The commentator spoke about a place in Ledyard Connecticut which is the home of the Foxwoods Casino. Within this structure was constructed an amusement center called Cinetroplis. He explained that inside was a theater with a 360 degree screen which could totally immerse you in the movie. But what interested me the most was the movie seats that would move and bump with the action on the screen. By the time the television spot for the attraction had ended, I was hooked.

I mapped out this area and found that it was only 2 1/2 hours away from the Bronx. The wife thought I was nuts because of the sudden need I had to visit Connecticut but I stressed on how much fun the kids would have in a place like this (I kind of was referring to myself also when I said "kids" but I think she knew that regardless). I figured the best way to enjoy this extravaganza was to drive up there and stay at a hotel for a few days. Yes, I felt like it would be that much fun. Sort of like a mini-Disney World.

After driving us non-stop to Connecticut, we finally got to the quaint little hotel. It seemed really nice but I was too distracted to pay attention to it's charm. We put our things away in the room and then hoped back into the car.

We drove to the Foxwood Casino which was about a mile away. There in front of us was days of movie going enjoyment. It was difficult for me not to jump out of the car but I calmed myself long enough for us to park.

Once inside, there seemed to be an awful lot of gambling machines and a lot of people spending money unnecessarily. Didn't they know where the "real" fun was?

As we got to the section called Cinetropolis, I was a little disappointed that the "amusement park" was not bigger. We moved directly to the enclosed theater and climbed into the special seats. Yes, the motion seats were exciting but the entire movie feature could not have been more than ten minutes long. After the show, we found the one or two other attractions in the immediate area. Some interactive virtual reality games (games that use computer imagery to create artificial environments) but nothing to write home about. What I discovered was that after about one hour, we had gone through all of the attractions in the place. Dizzy Dad had to agree with the rest of the family. I too was bored. We returned to the hotel, refunded our money for the other two days and found our way back home.

Don't get me wrong. I really liked the motion chairs but the most exciting part of the experience wound up being the anticipation I felt about what I might find in Cinetropolis. Seems that the Iwerk company had invested mega bucks in putting the center together but then found it was a great deal of trouble to keep up with the dream that they had envisioned with only the 1990's electronics. This place was ahead of it's time and could not draw the interests of the public. The Foxwoods Cinetropolis Iwerks Theater closed down by 2002, as did it's sister complex in Japan.

This now brings me to my new obsession. It seems that the experience of Cinetropolis has finally come of age.

To be continued.......

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Skating is Fun? - Part 3

October 1996 - Skating is Fun

It was not until 1996,  that the wifey and I made the decision that the children needed to learn to skate in a real rink. The kids were young enough to run around and have a limitless amount of energy to burn (between eight and twelve years old) but not too old that they didn't want to be seen with their parents. Parents, I might add, who were acting just as crazy as the kids and enjoying every minute of it.  

Luckily for me, the skates that the family all wore had four wheels, unlike the first skates invented in France during the beginning  of the eighteenth century  by M. Petitbled. I've never tried in-line skates before but the similarity to ice skates make me feel uncomfortable just looking at them. Since these type of skates hurt my ankles, I will stick to my quad-skates no matter what the style or how fashionable they look. 

By 1876, Williams Brown and Joseph Henry patented what continues to be known as the adjustable four-wheel skates that I roll and love.

Fast forward to 1996. The place was called Skate Key and it used to be located on 2424 White Plains Road, near Allerton Avenue in the Bronx. The Saturday 9:30 am - 12 Noon crowd was filled with a mixture of excited children and their patient parents. The hardcore skaters usually didn't arrive until the evenings. I guess it was too early in the morning for them to show off their unique moves. Even without the experts rushing by, it was hard for the less experienced crowd not to move to the beat of Donna Summer's "Love To Love You Baby" , "KC & The Sunshine Band's "Get Down Tonight" , Vaughn Mason & Crew's "Bounce, Rock, Skate, Roll" or the ever-famous "Rock With You" by Michael Jackson.

The big kid in me quickly got  tired of rental skates and made certain that we all purchased a pair of our own skates. After many Saturdays and much practice, I finally approached something that looked like speed skating. I found that skating in a crowd was similar to driving a car. Right after I weaved between others, I would check to my left or right. I learned to check my blind spots the hard way after the number of times that I smashed into others. The ego tells you that you're the fastest until you make that unchecked swift move and find that someone else is already where you wanted to be and then POW, you both fall to the floor. 

At times, the DJ asked that everyone clear the floor so that only certain people got a chance to show their stuff (boys only, girls only and even fast skaters). It felt great sprinting around the rink and not worrying about the kids. Much to my own amazement, I even learned to skate backwards, which of course tickled my ego to no end.  

Unfortunately, the Saturday morning fun ended as the kids got older and we all got different interests. It was time to hang up the old balled-bearing  platforms. 

Within a year or two the Skate Key Rink then moved to 138th Street in the South Bronx and became known for skating fun and fights. That particular outlet also closed March 2006 because of these same woes. 

 

It's sad to see what the old Skate Key building has become on White Plains Road. It  looks like a cut-rate clothing store has opened in its place. 

Regardless, I'll always remember the the family fun and the pounding beat of the music.



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Skating Is Fun? - Part 2

November 1975 - Roller Rink Black and Blues

I first went to a real roller rink with an old girlfriend, when I was about 20 years old, in 1975. The place used to be called the Empire Roller Skating Center, located in Crown Heights Brooklyn. It's been closed since 2007 which is really a shame with it's long, rich history. Some say that this place was where disco roller skating was born. Inventive speed skating and hard driving moves such as the Brooklyn Bounce was the theme of this place in the seventies.

As we walked in, Donna Summer's "Love To Love You Baby" was moving everyone along the floor. The 20,000-watt sound system seemed to be driving the skaters to prove that one was better than the other. There were flickering strobe lights and the ever invigorating rush of cool breeze as skaters rushed close to us within the barriers of the rink. Excitement was in the air as we walked over to rent our skates but the thrill of anticipation was about to turn to something else.

After lacing up and then stepping onto the rink, we could not help but feel that we were out of our league. Being novice skaters, my friend and I  wondered if we were even in the right place. Watching the aggressive, fast paced maneuvers of the seemingly expert skaters was fascinating to see but intimidating to to be in the middle of. It was Saturday night and what seemed like a good idea back in Manhattan, now was feeling like a mistake.

The place was so crowded that if you about to fall, you couldn't fall. The one or two times that I fell, I was genuinely scared. The thought of getting fingers run over or being knocked down again was a real fear under the circumstances. The amazing thing was that the aggressive skaters were so good at their art, that they easily avoided or even jumped over me. I'm not kidding. I actually had a guy jump over me when I was down. It was thrilling to see but not a position I preferred to be in.

We stayed for about an hour and then called it a night. Next weekend, we returned to the famous Empire Roller Skating Center one more time (mostly because my friend wanted to and against my better judgment). My skating was not much better and overall it was just too crowded to relax and have fun. This was not the place to leisurely relive my youth and re-learn to skate. By the end of the night, I decided to hang my rental skates up for a while.




To be continued ......


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Skating Is Fun? - Part 1

November 1962 -  Feel The Pain

Learning to balance on eight wheels sounds difficult to a first-timer but it really wasn't. My older brother and I were roller skating together since I was five, both outside and inside of the apartment project. After learning to travel over stones and bumpy concrete outside and rarely falling, my need for Iodine and bandages became less and less over the years. Indoor skating was different though. As we rolled through the hallways of the apartment, mom and dad would pretty much start screaming but what was a couple of young boys supposed to do when there is all that open floor tile and linoleum?

My first set of skates were the ones with straps and clamps on the front. They would grab around my sneakers and I had to tighten the clamps up with the skate key. At times, the skates would slip off because kids are always in a hurry and the science of these moving platforms was just too simple.

All this simplicity changed when the time came for me to learn to ice skate. My short history with these types of skates only spanned over one season, during the winter of 1962. I was nine years old and my father thought it would be a great activity for the growing boys to take what they had learned and apply those skills to a frozen surface. He took us to a sporting goods store and we all got our own brand new skates. Very easy to walk in while at the store, so let's go skating!!

Imagine what used to be called the Wollman Memorial Skating Rink in Central Park (since 1987, it's been called the Trump Wollman Memorial Skating Rink, after the reconstruction).  That crisp November in '62 it was still early but there were others already on the ice.

We sat on a bench lacing up our shoes with the magic metal blades on them. It was cold outside and I quickly wanted to get to skating to warm up. My father could see that my brother and I were obviously impatient.

"Lace them up tight" my father said sternly to my brother and I.
"You boys don't want to get hurt."

I followed my father and brother unto the ice and found this to be a totally different experience then roller skating. Regardless of me holding on to the support areas on the sides, I still found a way to fall on my butt. Not only was I cold but now my knees, gloves and butt were wet. This was not enjoyable. My father patiently stood next to me as I pulled myself together. It was difficult to stand and keep the blades perpendicular to the ground but I forced them to straighten out.

I looked across the ice and saw my brother actually making progress. He had already fallen and gotten up quite a few times but now he was ice skating. That was it. I was going to to learn if it killed me.

I finally did bend my knees and began to move myself forward but it was at a price. It seems that the pressure that I exerted on the muscle along the exterior portion of my right leg between my ankle and knee became increasingly sore as I forced my shoe to straighten. Seems like my thin ankles did not want do what everyone else s did. I sat down a few times, hoping this would relieve some of the pressure but when I got back up on the ice, it got worst.

My father and brother re-tightened my laces, gave me pointers and encouraged me as much as possible but my ankle was not listening. I was in too much pain. After one more try, I sat gloomily and watched my brother and father while they moved around the rink with increasing agility.

Next weekend, we returned to the rink with thicker socks for support but it made no difference. Once we returned home, that was the end of my illustrious career as an ice skater.

To be continued .......


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My Kingdom For A Canvas

Paper is Sometimes Better - March 1959

Finding a way to color my world always made sense to me, even at five years old. I found out at an early age that not everyone could take the pictures in their head, pick up a pencil and then put that picture on the paper. I thought about this ego-boost as I watched my first grade class during our trip to the Coca-Cola company. That's me and my mother in the photo. I was such a cute little idiot. How could I possibly imagine the terror  that I was about to evoke.

 

Back at the classroom, I had gotten used to my teacher complimenting me whenever it was finger painting time. My view of things was that she enjoyed my works of art. Her praise more likely stemmed from the fact that I didn't make as big a mess as the other kids. Regardless, I must have made an impression on Mrs. Clark because she decided to present me with a shoebox full of crayons.

These days, kids would accept nothing less than a computerized multi-colored marker system but back in the day, things were a lot simpler. That box of whole and broken crayons represented ideas on a stick which I had not yet imagined. I shyly said thank you to my teacher and when my mother picked me up, I walked home grinning with the box under my arm.

As I sat on my bed, scribbling away on the paper that my mother had given me, I felt a sense of discontent. Didn't she know that I was given this gift because I was an ARTIST? Could she not see that my soul was tormented and these minuscule sheets of paper could not give relief to my distress? I'd seen beautifully large paintings and I craved for space so that I could express my inner feelings. And then suddenly it hit me. The WALL! The largest canvas that I could have possibly wished for. The wall next to my bed spoke to me and my crayons and I had to answer.

The surface was bumpy and it made drawing my straight lines a bit more difficult but that was okay. I now had the area I needed to draw really pretty pictures (I mean, works of art). I happily kept expanding my work because, why not? I had lots of space.

After about fifteen minutes of drawing, I guess I was being too quiet because my mother came in the bedroom to check on me. She raised her voice talking about getting this stuff off the wall before my father got home. Most of what she said is lost to my memory but two things I do remember clearly. One was that it's difficult for me to clean the crayon off of a wall even with soap and water and two, I cried while I was doing it. I understood why my mother said my work couldn't be on the wall but I don't think she understood my point of view.

This experience did not stop my creative flow but it was clear what the bigger issue really was. There will always be critics.

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The Twenty-Buck Thief Story

July 15, 1968 - Fool me once? Nope.

When I was fifteen, I had $20.00 in my pocket and I was looking to buy a shirt on 125th Street. I'd been walking up to that area from my house on 114th Street and Lenox Avenue since I was thirteen and I never had any reason to fear my surroundings. 1968 was the year when Harlemites rioted on 125th Street after the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. I had hung around the neighborhood with my friends for years and was never involved in these events or anything close to dangerous. As in every life, a lesson must be learned to change things forever.

As I was walking pass the Lowe's movie theater, not far from the Apollo, these three guys, who had to be around sixteen or seventeen, approached me, asking me if I had any money. To my young mind, I thought that the small amount that I was carrying was hardly what they were looking for and I pulled out my twenty dollar bill.  As I held it out to show them, one guy made a move to try to grab it but he was worrying more about turning on his heel to get ready to run. I pulled the twenty back quickly and returned it to my pocket. It was obvious that these guys were trying to get the money from me quietly and they did not want to draw attention to themselves. 

Talking nicely with this group was not working so I started to walk away but they followed me. As I got closer to a policeman that I saw in the distance, they backed off. I had never had any involvement with the police and I wasn't sure how to even say "These guys are following me. Help!"  Regardless, I felt good that they had walked away.  Of course, after I got pass the cop, here they come again. This time they were trying to surround me.  

It was obvious that they were going to try to take the money so when they grouped around me, I pointed and loudly said "The cops coming."  As they all turned, I grabbed the shoulder of the one in front of me and then pushed him into the one on my left. Through the space he had left, I then started to run as fast as I could. They ran after me for about a block but they soon understood that it looked crazy for three larger guys to be chasing one smaller one and expect   not to get themselves noticed.  Adding to their discouragement was the fact that I had no intention of ever stopping. 

After getting pass the second block, I looked back but they were no where to be found. I ran the third block up to Morningside Avenue just in case. I walked back home the long way around and never saw them again. Despite my innocence, the only thing I had lost that day was some rubber from my sneakers. What I had gained was the understanding that no matter how much I loved my neighborhood, I'd better keep my eyes open. 

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