theres a place in france…
blue bells cockle shells…
down by the river with…
I didn’t grow up in NYC….
I didn’t grow up in NYC. Not even close. But one summer, 10 years back, stickball was a passion of mine. I grew up in PA. My brother, two friends, and I took broom stick handles or shovel handles and discarded and used tennis balls to play our passion that summer of ’95: stickball. We played on tennis courts at The Park where we lived. Home plate was the corner of the court where the lines met. There were no bases; it was more like home run derby. The man playing outfield was dubbed the “robber”. He was stationed in the doorway at the other end of the court where the third base line would have been, had we bases. He had to stay in the treshold there until the ball made contact with the stick. He then was allowedd to field the fly, and if he caught it, that was an automatic three outs. The other player was obviously the pitcher. We never really stressed strategic pitching, though; the competition was between the robber and the batter. You had to hit the ball on a fly out of the first court or it was an out. If you hit the ball into the next court with out it being caught, that was a 1. If it was hit into the next court but over the tennis net, that was a 2. If you hit the ball over the second fence, it was a three. And, if you were lucky enough to hit the ball up onto the “bumps” ( a steep hill containing a road at the top with speed bumps), which none of us , even the stronger ones, were ever able to do, then that was a six. My brother, the strongest, came closest. I am sure that those reading this wouldn’t agree in calling it stickball; it wouldn’t have the nostalgia attached to it that you or they know. I had my own version of stickball. And for the summer of ’95 it was a passion of mine and my friends that we will never forget: the smashing of the dry-rotted tennis balls; the day I caught a fly over my back with my left hand; the time when it rained so much that there were inches of water on the court; that fact that I was so tan that summer my skin could’ve passed for leather. Stickball to us was exhiliration. It was the reason we assembled at noon ever day. I didn’t have a job then, I was 16. I had a passion, though. It was stickball.
Ginny dolls, Tiny Tears,…
Ginny dolls, Tiny Tears, Barbies, Chatty Cathy! Paper dolls – YES! The Betsy McCall ones that would show up in McCalls magazine every month. Movie stars – Janet Leigh, Elizabeth Taylor, Debbie Reynolds. Girls – modern & old-fashioned. After a while, I drew & made my own – loved coloring in the clothes with colored pencils (before felt-tipped markers appeared on the scene). Made the dolls out of oak tag so they’d last – even made stands for them!
Two lines of kids joining…
Two lines of kids joining hands, facing each other, about 20-30 feet apart. One line would call: “Red rover, red rover, send _________ over!” The named kid, on the other side, would have to run and try to break through anywhere on the calling side’s line (usually the two weakest-looking kids). If the kid succeeded in breaking through, he/she would pick one child from that line’s squad to bring back to his/her team (usually the strongest/biggest kid). If the kid didn’t bust thru the line, he/she joined that line. The side won (of course, by then everyone was on it!) when no kids were left on the other side. With well- matched & determined kids, this could take all day!
Looked through all the archives,…
Looked through all the archives, and can’t find this one: Big Name Buttons Big name buttons (really, big round laminated pins – red with your name in white bold letters – very big in the late ’50’s, early ’60’s. Complicated clapping maneuvers which I can’t remember much of. Big name buttons – ah, ah, ya gotta wear ’em Big name buttons – ah, ah, you’re a square, and you really know where If your name is Shirley, you gotta show it If your name is Suzie, well let us know it If you got no button, oh what a shame Cause How the Heck Will Anybody Know Your name (Repeats first two lines)
Okay, couldn’t sleep tonight,…
Okay, couldn’t sleep tonight, my mind racing on the many games I loved playing in my youth in Deepdale (Little Neck) Queens in the 1950’s-early 60’s. Want to document some of these for my grandkids, who probably won’t know a street game from a milk machine (‘member those, anyone?). Thrilled to find this website – way to GO! …So, the girls in my “court” (WWII veterans’ garden apartments, with sections built around a central grass area, all over Queens, especially Glen Oaks & Little Neck) loved both Spauldeens AND Pensie Pinkies. I remember at one time each costing about a quarter at our local candy store. And fishing them out of the sewers could be a whole day’s frustrating & exhilirating challenge – mainly with unbent hangers, made into a fishing circle at one end. Anyone remember a game played by throwing the ball high against a brick wall, and doing a variety of activities before catching it? Like 1 = clap one time; 4 = 4 jumping jacks, etc? Can’t remember what it was called – maybe Russian ______????