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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Shake Rhymes With Earthquake

October 7, 1983, 6:19 am - The Day the Earth Did Not Stand Still.

Life as a newly-wed was great. Wen and I had been married for less than a month and we were already living in our fantastic second-floor, two-bedroom apartment, with a back patio no less. And pop open the champagne because the results were in. Yes, she was pregnant! Life was good and all was calm with the world. I was now Mr. Puffed-Up Chest who was ready to take on the world. I would do anything to protect my home and family.

All these thoughts ran through my thirty-year old mind as I laid there next to my future. I glanced at the clock and it was 6:15 am on a Friday morning. Wen was off work today and I was not due in until 3 pm. I hugged my wife from behind and drifted back into slumber-land.

Little did I know, there were events going on underground, about 250 miles to the north, in Blue Mountain, New York, that would spoil my beauty nap. It seems that a 5.3 earthquake was about to start there, which would involve two provinces in Canada and twelve states in the USA. Not to mention little old Bronx, New York.
 

Before this time, I had never experienced a quake before. I'd seen them in the movies but I'd always heard that New York City was built on solid bedrock. No need to worry about natural disasters when you're a native New Yorker. We don't have time for such things. I guess Mother Nature was not impressed with our New York way of doing things.

At 6:19 am, it began as a slight rumbling which was shaking the bed just enough to wake me up. I felt as if I were standing on the subway platform and a train was passing through but no worse. A few seconds later, the bed was moving from side to side really hard and there was a far away noise which sounded much louder than the number 5 IRT express.

I jumped out of the bed to my feet and realized that the floor was also shaking violently. I stood there for a second trying to ascertain what would be my best course of action to protect the woman I loved. By now, Wen was looking in my direction and was just as bewildered as I was. The noise seemed to increase and all I could imagine was that there was a problem with the boiler in the basement and it was about to blow up. Within another two seconds, I decided to take the bravest course of action possible. With no thought of personal for my personal safety, I jumped back into the bed and used my body to shield my wife from harm.

After a few more seconds, there was silence. Wen and I looked at each other and waited a while. We glanced out the window and saw no commotion. so we then turned on the television and the radio. We found out what the rest of the area was also experiencing. There were no aftershocks. At least none that affected our area.

Some may say that I bolted back into the bed out of fear. I say that I carefully calculated the odds and proceeded to save the life of my new wife, my unborn child and also the entire city of New York. At least that's the way I'd like to remember it.

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Car Crashes I Have Known (part four)

September 1993 - Who Me? I Had Nothing To Do With It.

I thought that it was a good idea to take the kids to school and drop the wife off to work but a few other people had a different idea about how I should spend my day.

Funny how one thinks that the car you fall in love with at first site will always be your one and only. I guess that guys are fickle that way (at least when it comes to cars). This dazzling maroon 1993 Honda Civic LX was all that I had wanted in a car. Besides power windows, it didn't have anything special but it looked smooth, ran great and that's all that mattered.

We were following our usual route and were now on the stretch of Baychester Avenue which would lead use Wilder Avenue, where we would pick up my niece. Poor thing was going to be left out. My dear niece (photo on top, on the left) was not able to participate in the fun we were about to have.

I was in the pilot's sit and Wen (the co-pilot) was sitting next to me. (For those who are curious, that's a picture of Wen, on the left, next to the chariot).The wife had made it a habit of backseat driving from the front seat but I guess that's the job of the co-pilot. Regardless, you can only make comments on another person's driving, when there is time too. This particular occasion, all judgment calls were on me.

I could see the yellow Dodge Shadow approaching and there was nothing unusual to see. That is, until the white Acura, parked in the opposing lane, decided that he was coming out of his parking space. He did this regardless of who was already in the flow of traffic and had the right of way.  The yellow Dodge honked but it was too late to slow down. He was forced to swerve to his left in order to avoid the white car, which he successfully did. But to accomplish this, he also had to cross the double line and move into my lane. I quickly moved to the right to avoid a head and I was relieved for a second when this didn't happen. Unfortunately, it seemed more important for the Dodge not to hit the Acura than to maybe hit me. The front of his car rammed the rear left side of mine, causing us to spin a bit. I was able to straighten the car out but for reasons that I couldn't understand, I seemed to no longer had control of the car. The front right side of my Accord struck/scraped the nearby Plymouth causing a lot of damage. and the only reason we came to a stop is because we then smashed into the an older model Civic. This video should make clear the events that I just described.

Just before I turned around to see if everyone was okay (which they all were), I glanced in my left side view mirror. I could see the Dodge sitting at an angle, across both lanes. I felt relieved that me and my family were alright and then sorry for the guy in the Dodge who had done his best to avoid all this. My emotions then turned to anger because also in my mirror, much further away, I could see the white Acura. He had driven away from the accident that he had caused and he hadn't sustained a scratch. I watched as he moved onto the highway entrance and away from the scene.

When I did get out and walked around the car, I found that the front right and left rear tires of my car were both totally flat. Wow! No wonder I finally lost control of my car.  Thank God it wasn't much worst.

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Car Crashes I Have Known (part three)

March 1989 - I May Be Crazy but At Least I'm Not Blind

Many people complain about their mother-in-laws. Seemed like I must have lucked out because I had one that I really got along with. I liked her so much in fact, that dropping her off every morning didn't seem like a chore at all. I looked forward to our conversations and this particular morning was no exception. In retrospect, if we had had a terrible relationship, I probably would not have been able to speak about the upcoming events.

I had just dropped off the grand lady and waved goodbye as I pulled away from the curb in my sleek golden 1987 Honda Accord. It had the hidden flip-up headlights which reminded me of the Aston Martin car in the James Bond movies. Tres cool.

I took great care to check my blind spot to ensure that that there would be no sudden surprises. Over the past decade I had learned to become a very careful driver. I'd learned my lesson about driving defensively, At the age of thirty-five I'd discovered that the being speed-racer and driving with my ego on my sleeve would probably get me killed.

I had gotten to the point of my fifteen minute return drive where there was a three block stretch of road which had no intersections or turns. This trek had me driving downhill for about halfway there and then coasting uphill to the light the rest of the way. As I started down the slope, I'd given the car a bit of extra gas knowing that inertia would move me along  to the end of the block. In the distance, in the opposing lane, there was this light grey Grand Mercury Marquis which was doing thirty-five down his slope of the hill, the same as me.

As I got to the midpoint, just before the hill would slope upwards, the Marquis begins to turn left in my direction. I knew there was no intersection but I quickly glanced over to my right and saw that there was a driveway. If that was where the guy was headed it didn't make any sense. Couldn't he see that I was in the way! I was in the furthest right lane which would put me next to this driveway that he was headed for. I looked back at him and he was definitely heading for the driver's side of my car and there was no avoiding him.

I began to speed up hoping to pass him and I was able to get my driver's side further forward but other than that it was too late.  I couldn't avoid the accident. The front of his car hit the side of mine.

Miraculously myself and the elderly male driver and his wife were able to walk out of our vehicles. We exchanged information since this occurred in the days before cell phones and I was going to walk up the hill to to the pay phone, call the cops. I had only gotten a few steps away when I finally heard the explanation for our dilemma. I heard the wife angrily but quietly say:

"I told you you should have worn your glasses."

I was stunned but I kept on walking as if I hadn't heard. As bad as it sounds, the old gentleman had driven towards the driveway as if he couldn't see me because he hadn't.

The police arrived soon after I made the call. I quietly mentioned to the officer and then later on, loudly told my insurance representative what I had heard.  On the positive side, it was deemed that I was not a fault. On the other hand, my car was totaled so how great was it to really be in the right. At least I was able to buy a shiny new maroon 1989 Accord. Made me feel a little better, anyway.

To be continued........


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Car Crashes I Have Known (part two)

September 1979 - Second Car

What a beautiful fall day. Not a cloud in the sky. It was about nine in the morning and I was on my was home from work. I was feeling particularly good because I was driving my wife's new 1980 Toyota Corona. Actually, it belonged to both of us but we figured that it was only safer for the wifey to drive the newer car. This meant I got the '74 Corolla which was a bit run down but it was paid for.

When I prepared to go to work the night before, I knew that she didn't have to get up in the morning. As I walked towards the parking spaces where our two cars were parked, I could vaguely hear the Corona calling my name. "Lloyd. Don't you want to take a smooth ride tonight and ride home in style in the morning?" The Corona and I looked over at the sad little white Corolla. I accepted the gold Corona's invitation and proudly held my head high all the way to work.

I know this probably doesn't happen to most guys (yeah, right) but when a man is twenty-six years old and driving a fancy new car, it's difficult not to feel a bit pumped. The sun had climbed halfway up the eastern skies and I was feeling great. I'd been driving legally for the pass year and a half with no problems to speak of. As I drove, the leather of the dark brown steering wheel felt very increasingly comfortable in my hands. I inhaled deeply and that new-car smell filled my lungs with pride. Every man should experience that smell at least once in his life.

Was it my imagination or did that good looking girl just take a second look at me. I had basically noticed her reaction in my peripheral vision but I had to make sure. I quickly turned my head just for a brief second. Yes, she was definitely smiling back and the glance was in my direction. Now that my ego was properly inflated, I returned my eyes to the road ahead and back to my expert driving. It just wouldn't be worth it to get into an accident with this new car. At the top of the hill ahead of me was the last intersection which, after making a left, would lead me into the apartment complex.

As I approached the left turning lane, there was a dark blue vehicle in the opposing left turning lane ahead of me. A more experienced driver would have known to slowly proceed with caution. There might be another car that can't be seen on the other side of that vehicle that was also waiting to make a left. I didn't know to think that far ahead. All I understood was that the car ahead was signaling left and I saw nothing else coming. I began my turn and as my right side passed the blue car, I could now see that there was a red car approaching me at about thirty-five miles an hour. My last thought before he hit the broadside of my car was that he had the right of way. His light was green. OH NO!!! The video speaks for itself.

Except for my left pinkie finger being sore, I was not hurt. Fortunately, the other guy was okay too. As I stood there, learning how to exchange information and patiently waiting for the police, I didn't feel like such an experienced driver anymore.

Finally, I found that the car was drivable but it moved from side to side a bit. I tried not to look at how caved in the passenger area was and how much closer it felt to me. As I pulled into the parking lot, I dreaded facing the wifey. She would not be happy about what happened to her new car. The next calamity would not be a car crash but probably just as bad. Obviously, I had a lot more to learn.

To be continued.......


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