The way I heard it, it was Miss Suzy, not miss lucy, and after the doctor and nurse and etc told her what they though was wrong: Up came the water, up came the soap! Up came the bathtub that wouldn’t go down his throat! Miss suzy slapped the doctor, miss suzy slapped the nurse! Miss suzy payed the later with the alligator purse! Out went the doctor, out went the nurse, out went the lady with the alligator purse!
My best bike memory was when I hit my neighbors mail box. I always used my bike with shoes to stop, but this day I had no shoes on was also without a shirt. I come flying down the street, turn into the driveway when I see something is in the way, so I move only to hit the mail box knocking me down to the ground. I wake up with the neighbors hovering over me and my bike half way down the street. In the end I was lefted with a HUGE scare on my chest, one on my face, and serval on my back from gravel.
I grew up in the Highbridge area of the Bronx. I lived at 1050 Anderson Ave and 901 Woodycrest Ave. What great times and great memories. Playing stickball in PS73 school yard, hanging out down by the Harlem river and running around in the abandoned subway “The Shuttle” than ran under our neighborhood. Nothing in my life has topped those times and if there was a time machine I’d be there now. Rob Auerbach
In the 60`s and 70`s I “hung out” at Mitchell`s drive in restaurant on 86 st. and 7th ave in Bensonhurst. All the hot rodders hung out there. I remember racing our cars on 7th ave down to the traffic light from 86th st. to 92nd. st by victory memorial hospital. Also remember racing on 1st ave by the Bush Terminal buildings. The cops used to chase us constantly. We had more fun than anyone would ever believe. I tell people stories about what went on at the drive in and nobody believes me. The crowd I hung out with was the biggest bunch of screwballs on the face of the earth. One summer night, the motorcycle crew, rode thru wearing nothing but their helmets { no kidding }. Waitresses dropped their trays and ran inside screaming and laughing at the same time. Except for one “particular” waitress. She hopped on the back of one of the bikes and rode away with him, food tray and all. Somebody didn`t get their order that night?
Every year or so since I was 7, My aunt shipped as many of us as she could to relatives or summer camp. I’ve been through some interesting summer camps in my lifetime. I thought it cool to reminisce about parent-paid, state-funded, obligatory, or otherwise summer camp fiascos or great times spent away from your city. Because as you know,wherever you go, you take a little piece of Brooklyn with you. My very first summer camp experience was spending an entire summer (which started out as only two weeks) with a family of Quakers in Pennsylvania, through Fresh Air Fund. My mom became very ill and the family offered to keep me longer. I was the oldest of their children(two daughters) and had to do the more serious work. Being from Brooklyn, waking up at 5:00 in the morning to board a tractor with the father and cruise along much more than 75 acres of land, stopping along the way to milk cows, get eggs from their huge poultry farm, pick strawberrys for our excellent crepe and fresh milk with fresh honey breakfasts, was an amazing experience. I was in pain for the first few weeks. Although I could play any kid under the table, this was work, and it felt totally different. By all standards this family wasn’t poor land-wise. This was kind of like the “South Fork” of Quarker-owned land where all work was peformed through hand-labor. Many of their ways were exactly the same as my family’s. Like once, we were riding in the horse-drawn buggy and the little girl was nagging her mom trying to climb into the front seat, when her mom back-slapped her to the back. It reminded me of my grandmother and her nervous lightning speed back-slaps…. kind of made me feel right at home. We went to sunday school every day. Sang “Yes Jesus Loves Me” constantly, were very hard working and mindful of one another. I stuck out like a sore thumb, yet the kids hung with me and we had a great time. The family bought me my first brand new bike, and we all cried profusely when parting. That summer my mom and the young father of that family passed and we had each other to lean on. There’s so many summers to talk about, let’s start a summer camp discussion, let each other know what unsuspecting societies Brooklyn unleashed it’s children on, back “in the day”.