The Pooper Scooper Law.

I saw an obituary in the p

The Pooper Scooper Law.

I saw an obituary in the paper a couple of weeks ago and its headline immediately grabbed my attention. The obit was for one Edward Lehner, who left this world at ninety three years years of age, surely a good run. He was a lawyer, assemblyman and judge but the obit headline heralded something he did that directly affected us living in New York City, for in 1978 he was responsible for passing Public Health Law 1310. And what might you ask is the importance of Public Health Law 1310? Well we knew it by its other more popular colloquial name, the Pooper Scooper Law!! It made it mandatory for dog owners to clean up after their pets and not leave steaming piles of poo on every sidewalk in the city (which is exactly what they did). He even backed it up by introducing the “Dogmatic”, made up of a rod about three feet long with a disposable plastic bag at the end which snapped shut after picking up the offending pile. The Pooper Scooper was born!!

It of course was immediately met with derision, and some legitimate questions: how exactly was the law to be enforced? How could it be determined just which was the guilty dog without catching them in the act? On any given afternoon, an average block in the Village could host scores of dogs and their walkers. But with all its problems, and with all the expected snickers, I remember thinking it was legislation long overdue. At the time, the average sidewalk was a mine field of poo piles; you had to always be alert as to where you were walking, and be ready to change course fast should you come upon one. It made an average stroll into a defensive combat course, and the worst was at night, especially on those small winding, poorly lit streets of the Village, and more especially if you had had a few, or had enjoyed a toke or two and you weren’t at your sharpest. I remember it was a long standing ritual that when we got home or had someone over, before entering the apartment, there was the poop test; a thorough examination of shoes and pants.

It was bad when for instance you met up with a group of friends to take in the matinee at the Waverly, and you all got settled in for an afternoon of film, when out of the darkness you would hear that tell tale sniffing sound. You knew immediately where this was going; more sniffing, then the smell, then the confirming voice in the darkness: “Shit!!”, and indeed it was. Whomever the victim was would disappear into the lobby, maybe to return, maybe not.

Or going to a friends house for drinks, and settling in the living room, looking forward to that first sip, and the host does the sniffing thing (even after the door inspection). Damn! So much for a relaxing drink.

But the all time worst was the time I was meeting this girl I really liked and we were going to talk a walk through the Village, and grab a bite at John’s Pizzeria and hopefully make a night of it. There she was, waiting at the corner of Bleecker and Seventh Avenue, like we planned. I came up from the subway and in my enthusiasm started to run across the street to her. And I almost made it. But just a few yards away I felt my right foot slide, and I heard the familiar squishing sound, and I knew right then, in an instant, poof, just like that, there would be no “night of it” for me.

It was that bad back then. Whole plans could be derailed with one wrong step (literally).

There were those that said New Yorkers would never accept such a law, they would simply ignore it (wouldn’t be the first time!). Indeed at first it got off to a slow start, many still not taking it seriously. But getting a $ 100 fine went a long way to helping people take it seriously. Mayor Koch made it clear, this wasn’t a voluntary thing, it was the law, and he instructed the NYPD to enforce it vigorously. The effects were noticeable within weeks, and even the skeptics starting believing. You could actually walk down the sidewalk with no bobbing and weaving necessary. Many large cities quick adopted it. Today you will see plastic bag dispensers in every city park. It was a very real and effective action that benefited the city, its businesses and its people. 

So here’s to you Edward Lehner, thank you and may you Rest in Peace, secure in the knowledge that you made a difference in people’s lives. It’s never been easy to get anything done with all the red tape a bureaucracy as large as New York City generates, but you did it, and we can all walk more confidently down our sidewalks, because of it.  

-Rob

Saying Goodbye to our Beloved Cat, Owen.

 

It was September 8^th when we had to aid this adorable, wonderful cat across the Rainbow Bridge. 

He was not young at 12 years old, but I thought that we would have at least three or four more years with him. 

….. and then that weekend came… he was obviously in much pain. We rushed him to the Vet twice; once at 3 a.m one morning and then 1 a.m the other morning. X-rays showed the issue to be with his spine rubbing tail bone. They tried everything; pain shots, steroids… everything. Nothing was working. Then, when we saw him unable to walk, having to crawl to get to his litter box, which he could not even climb into; we knew. It was time.

What an agonizing decision it was, but it was the only fair one for our baby.

It was about 1:30 a.m when we got to the Emergency Vet location. I sat in the passenger seat and Owen let me hold him in my arms the whole car ride there. He laid there in my arms simply looking into my eyes. I wonder if he noticed how wet they were?

This emergency vet was incredibly caring and concerned. We did not feel like customers… we felt like family.

I continued to hold my baby as we sat in the room that would be the “Crossing the Bridge” room. He continued to look up at us with those beautiful eyes.

As I stared back at him through my watery eyes I recalled all the moments, all the times he had been with me when I had needed him most. Though all my cancer treatments and all the follow-up appointments, Owen had been there for me. When I felt too fatigued to move, he laid with me looking at me with those same, beautiful eyes, telling me to relax and to just pet him. When my anxiety levels climbed to disturbing levels… there he was, looking at me and reminding me that he needed me to be ok. He knew when I was anxious and frightened, I could see it in those eyes…. those same eyes that were staring at me in this heart wrenching moment.

Our eyes never left each other as he drifted off, peacefully. I held him for a few more moments … we kissed him goodbye again before giving him back to the very loving vet.

The drive home was brutally quiet. The house was brutally quiet, and when we saw his favorite toy on the floor, the tears flowed again.

 

A month later and the house is still noticeably quiet.

 

“I still look for you in all the little places because my heart has not learned you are gone….

The house feels different, the mornings feel quieter, and every familiar corner still reminds me of you.

You left my sight, but never my heart.”

 

 

The Department Store

The Department Store

They had everything, from clothing to appliances, from furniture to dry goods, paint to hardware, electronics to baby products, books, jewelry, cameras….you name it, the Department Store stocked it. And in their glory days, they just didn’t sell stuff; they hosted concerts, lectures, classes, displays, and art shows. They became cultural hubs in the cities they inhabited. They sprang up along with the Industrial Revolution, and they literally transformed city life. The suburban mall was way off in the future; heck suburbs were way off in the future! They sprouted up in every major city in the world, from Harrods in London to Printemps in Paris. But no city had as many as New York. The first was Stewarts which opened its doors as early as 1846, followed by Macys in1858, Bloomingdale’s in 1861, B.Altman in 1865, S.Klein in 1905, Ohrbachs 1923 and Korvettes in 1948.
Over the years, many stores that started elsewhere, moved to mid town as well: Gimbels, Nordstroms, JC Penney, Sears and Montgomery Ward saw the advantages of having a branch in what was an increasingly lucrative market.

Growing up, a few square blocks around Herald Square on 34th street, boasted five of the largest: Macys, Gimbels, Korvettes, Ohrbachs, and Montgomery Ward. If you couldn’t find what you were looking for in one, all you had to do was walk a half block or so, and check out another one. Need less to say, you could spend a whole day just bouncing around sampling all these establishments had to offer. There were of course differences in both the quality and quantity of what was offered. When Dad would take us on one of those clothing expeditions, when new sports jacket was required, we often would start at the more affordable JC Penney or Korvettes; then if we struck out there, the next tier up was Gimbels or B.Altman, and then if we still hadn’t found anything suitable, we would kick it up a notch and enter the sacred halls of Macys, where invariably we would be successful (of course all this was after we had checked out the Howard Clothes store first, as that’s who Dad worked for!!). Macys also had a first rate Kitchen ware department that Mom loved to peruse each time we went, not to mention a food court with some to die for pastries, and a classic tuna salad on cranberry bread sandwich!

The holiday season of course was huge to these stores; a successful season could make the bottom line for the whole year. At that time of year, all the stores decorated their windows that looked out onto the street, and it was a fierce competition (hey it’s New York after all), to be the best, to attract the biggest crowd, clogging the sidewalk, spilling out into traffic. Over the years, we saw some pretty imaginative displays, some depicting a story for instance, like A Christmas Carol, or Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer, some just dazzling with color, and sparkling lights displayed on mighty fir trees that somehow fit into the window space (they looked “mighty” to a kid anyway), and some just highlighting the products the store wanted to move that year – a brand new television, or a radio, or heck even one of those brand new waffle irons, or for the homemaker, what better gift than a new iron to make the daily chores easier? (try that today and see how it goes).

But as fun as those sidewalk displays were, for a kid, there was nothing like visiting the toy department. Each store of course had one, but they could be quite different from each other. And at Christmas time, every one of them devoted a huge amount of floor space to displaying the latest toys, dolls and board games (Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robots, Etch-A-Sketch, Mousetrap, Hot Wheels, Barbie, Troll dolls etc.). Some created whole worlds to walk through, just like the window displays but life size….Santa’s workshop, the North Pole, Scrooge’s London, all populated with aluminum trees with shiny tinsel, and illuminated by rotating color wheels, and bubble lights.

One of the biggest draws, expectedly was being able to “visit” Santa and give him your wish list. Again, each store had a Santa, and just like the toy departments, they could be quite different from one another in terms of physical size, length of beard, and their Ho-Hoing ability. Usually the lines to see Santa were long, most kids eagerly awaiting to plead their case for a new sled, or baseball glove. Invariably of course there were one or two kids who when it was actually their turn, went from avid disciple to frightened non-believer, terrified by this strange, maniacal hairy dude in the red suit. But even those kids would be back next year, the allure of the season too strong to ignore.

They are all pretty much gone now; only the biggest remains. Macys still draws crowds, and celebrates the holidays each year by hosting the largest Thanksgiving Day Parade in the country, something they have been doing since 1926. This year will be its 100th anniversary. Oh and you can still get a great sandwich at the food court, and you can still ride the old wooden escalators, some of the last ones operating in the world, to get there.

So here’s to the Department Store and all it gave us.

Some shopping days now, I have to go to three or four stores to get everything I need, and I find myself muttering what many a tired shopper must have uttered a century or two before: “Can’t they just put everything under one roof??”

For a time, they did.

-Rob

Those End of Summer Memories from the Mid Sixties.

My guess is that you will agree when I say that time is moving way too fast! Doesn’t it seem like yesterday we were welcoming summer and getting ready for all our favorite summer activities? Yet, now, in a blink of an eye autumn will arrive in a couple of days! ! What?!

I grew up in NYC in the 1960’s and the cooler weather already started to be noticeable as soon as Autumn hit. I haven’t found that to be the case for over 20 years since moving to Southeast Texas. Here , cooler weather arrives around January, if we are lucky!

By the time January hit NYC, I remember being in heavy coats, with hats and scarfs wrapped tightly around my face to keep out the wind chill. Gloves also made the list of normal daily attire. Oh, and probably some kind of winter boots that would provide warmth as I sloshed around the icy streets.

Here in Texas, folks are still wearing their flip flops , though they may have actually decided to throw on a nice Hoodie as well.
I remember the end of summer way back in 1964. The Beatles were dominating the music scene, but my favorite song was “House of the Rising Sun” by The Animals. It was released in the summer of that year.
I hated to think about summer coming to an end. Autumn meant back to school and an end to my summer freedom. I was never fond of school when I was a kid, as I never really “fit in”and dealt with a lot of what we call bullying today, so this definitely added to my sorrow of seeing summer end!
School started sometime around the first or second week of September in NY, right after Labor Day, and the temps were already getting noticeably cooler. Just that simple change of temperature raised my anxiety level about summer being over.
My memories of summer included images of long walks at the lake our parents took us to in New Jersey ,nightly visits by the Good Humor ice cream truck, bike rides, drive-in movie nights with my parents and brother, sitting outside late at night listening to the radio and waiting for Cousin Brucie to play House of the Rising Sun! I had no real curfew in place because there was no school to get ready for in the morning. Loved it!
… and how about grilling!? It was always wonderful to take a bite out of a summer hotdog or burger while listening to or watching your favorite baseball team take the field!
I have found that on some of my more difficult days,I can gain a more positive outlook just by recalling some of those wonderful summer memories.
Do you recall a song: “See You In September”? It was not one of my all time favorites, but it was a pretty good song that came out on a hot summer day in 1966 by a group called “The Happenings”. The band originated in Patterson, New Jersey.
Well, decades have passed and here we are; well into September. It’s kind of scary how quickly it’s here.
The lyrics of “See You in September” made autumn seem like a long way off:
🎵See you in September…See you when the Summers through…….”
So, …..When do I start watching “Christmas Vacation” and the “Polar Express “?

Don.

Retail

Retail

Retail, wholesale, clerical, white collar, blue collar and any other color collar you can come up with, in my working life, I have sampled them all, and I am grateful for it. Sure some were better than others, some more profitable, more fulfilling, but each had something to impart, to teach, to reveal. Working retail in a suburban mall is one thing, working retail in New York City in the 70’s was something else entirely. Besides the pace of the city, the sheer number of people that you would encounter each day, and the nature of some of those people made it quite a challenge sometimes. But it all made for anything but a boring day behind the cash register or stocking the shelves. No, each day was an adventure, and that’s what made it fun, the crazy people you would meet (try working at Nathan’s), or the rich and famous you would encounter (that would be Capezio’s in the Village). There was never a week that went by, when you wouldn’t have another bunch of stories to tell around the dinner table. And you always made new friends. But it could also be kind of scary at times; there were after all, some bad people out there on the streets.

One of the more interesting jobs I had was at a health food store on the East Side, a GNC (General Nutrition Corporation), a very popular chain of stores at the time. It was not for the hard core bean sprout crowd from the East Village, it was more of a soft core palatable alternative. As with any retail environment, I got to know the regulars that would stop in each day, some for an herbal tea and a croissant (yes they sold croissants!), but it carried vitamins as well, and protein drinks, and weight loss powders, and tons of energy bars (anyone remember the Tigers Milk bar? – my favorite!). All of it sold quite well; the company was onto something, tapping into the increasing desire of people to “eat healthier”, even if some of the products were questionable at best. But hey it made people feel good about themselves, and so what if along with that protein bar and bottle of Kefir, you could also score an almond croissant!

Our manager was a young guy, up and coming in the retail world and very popular with the ladies that shopped there (which boosted sales as well). One day he had the thought that we should set up a table out on the sidewalk in front of the store, and offer free samples of some of our products to people passing by; maybe a hit of that guava juice would entice people to come inside and see what else there was. So one afternoon, we set up a long table in front of the huge plate glass window of the store, right there on Second Avenue. We filled it with a bunch of the products, and went about trying to drum up some new business. It wasn’t easy trying to get a New Yorker to slow down enough to listen to a word you were saying or take a look at the samples. But we tried and it was kind of fun; we were outside on a busy street and there was no shortage of characters or conditions to gawk at. And it did feel good when you were able to actually get someone’s attention and listen to our little sales pitch about Vitamin K, or the healing benefits of Ginseng; heck sometimes we even got someone to come into the store!
But it was New York after all, and that meant having to deal with some loonies that inhabited the streets too. One afternoon this slightly deranged looking young guy was slowly walking by talking rather loudly to himself. Now maybe some places that would seem like weird behavior, but it was just another afternoon in the city to us. Hopefully he would just keep on walking, and talking, and that would be it. But no…..not our lucky day; he spotted our table and started pointing and shouting at us; we couldn’t make out what he was saying but it sounded like
he was accusing us of something (charging too much for a green tea?). Whatever it was, he was really working himself up into a frenzy, and I began to think about calling for reinforcements from inside the store. But he acted quicker than I did. Still shouting he quickly picked up a half full metal trash can (with it’s “Help keep your city clean” sign), and taking a few steps closer, proceeded to throw it right at us. Luckily my co-worker and I were able to duck out of the way, but the can landed on the table, bounced once and took out the entire plate glass window of the store! The guy continued to scream at us, I guess not satisfied with the havoc he had already reaped, but suddenly took off down the Avenue at a full run; and I would have too if I had spotted our Manager come bursting out the front door, with a metal baseball bat in his hands, and a totally pissed off expression on his face. So he takes off after the guy, and I am just standing there, kind of dumb founded, covered in glass and realizing this kind of thing wasn’t covered in the employee manual they gave us on our first day. I also wasn’t prepared for the reaction of some of the folks on the street; while a few came to see if we were ok, others just kept walking (more quickly now) by, as if nothing had happened, and a couple of very respectable looking people decided to avail themselves of some of our products from the toppled display in the front window, without bothering to pay for them. Really?! On your way back to the office, you just thought you would do a little looting??!! That in a nutshell was the city, the good, the bad, and the way ugly.

Needless to say, it was a pretty traumatic day, quite a change from the everyday routine. Things of course quickly got back to normal, though the idea for the sample table on the sidewalk outside was put on hold for the foreseeable future. I really can’t remember how long I stayed at that job, it having lost a bit of its appeal after that, but it certainly wasn’t the end of my retail career in the city. Oh no, there was more fun to come, like being held up at gunpoint working at a Barnes & Noble, or falling down the stairs at Capezio’s, but it wasn’t all bad stuff. There was also the time I met Katherine Hepburn while working at Dean & Deluca; she was my Mom’s favorite actress, and while I excitedly told her of meeting her idol, I didn’t include the part where Ms. Hepburn told me to f**k off and leave her alone! And I will always be grateful for and in debt to the wonderful retail world in the city, as it is how I met Leslie – I sold her a pair of shoes downstairs at Capezio’s in the Village. There is a lesson there….magic can happen in the most unlikely of places, and when you least expect it.

-Rob

I Miss the City

I Miss the City

I miss the city. To keep me “attached” sometimes I will watch videos posted to YouTube that are filmed walks around town, each one a different neighborhood. I was surprised at how many there were to choose from; quite a few channels are devoted to what amount to walking “tours” of cities, and New York is one of the most popular (along with London) for people to chronicle their travels.

Looking at one recently of a walk around Greenwich Village, I was re-assured at the familiarity of what I was seeing; a lot of the streets look the same as I remembered them. Even some of the businesses I used to frequent were unchanged – John’s Pizzeria, Faicco’s, Rocco’s- thank goodness all still there. It was a bit surprising as the city, and the times, have changed quite a lot since I walked those streets, but at least in the Village, it looks like I remember it.

But then there are the people. They were walking about, all seemingly young, fit and stylish, (along with some holdovers from the Sixties), all on the move, alone, in pairs or in groups, some tourists (you could tell), some natives. But besides the changes in dress, and hairstyles and the models of the cars on the streets, there was something else different I noticed, looking at the scene as it unfolded in real time, something at first I couldn’t quite put my finger on. And then it hit me…..almost every last one of them, was staring at their cell phones. Some stopped walking to look (never a good idea on a busy sidewalk), but most just held their phone in front of them and looked and walked at the same time, their eyes glued to the screen. Well that was certainly something we didn’t see back in the day. Maybe it’s because I haven’t been back in a long time, but somehow I don’t think, if I should ever again find myself with Mick wondering “hey, what am I doing standing here on the corner of West 8th St and Sixth Avenue?”*, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be staring at my phone!

And as I suspected, it wasn’t just a New York phenomena either. I tuned into a video of a tour of central London; you know Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar Square,
Hyde Park, Westminster, as fascinating and as memorable as any urban trek you can imagine, and yup, there everybody was, tourist and resident alike, all milling about, staring at their phones. Maybe a few were getting directions, but everyone had them out, eyes glued to the screens. Meanwhile they are walking by Nelson’s Column, or the National Gallery, and not paying it a bit of mind.

It brought to mind a scene I see repeatedly whenever we go out to lunch or dinner now. We recently went to our favorite Sichuan restaurant for dinner, and a couple was sitting at a table for two near the front window. One guess. Right again, both were scrolling on their phones when the person who I assume was a friend and someone they had wanted to go to dinner with, was sitting on the other side of the small table maybe a foot away. And all the time we were there, I didn’t see them talk to each other once, too distracted by their screens.

I am old enough to remember life before the phone; the cell phone that is – I’m not that old! We somehow managed to get by without being “connected” all the time. The irony of course is that with all the technology and connectivity that we have at our disposal now, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of conversation going on, actually there is much less.

When I remember the city growing up, it was a colorful, vibrant movie unfolding, a sea of colors, the reddish brown of the buildings, the neon of the marquees, the startling wardrobes of the passers-by, flashing, blinking lights, always lights. And it had a soundtrack too, the sounds of the traffic, honking, the heavy bass from a boom box passing by, people shouting out to each other, barkers calling out today’s specials; a virtual kaleidoscope of stimuli, all lovingly assaulting my senses. This is why people live in a city, I think; this is why cities exist in the first place, so that society can exist!

Maybe it only lives in memory now, because when I look at the videos of the old neighborhood taken recently, I didn’t quite see or feel the same thing. Maybe some of the sounds are still there, but the vibrancy seems to be missing. And maybe that’s because I didn’t see too many people “experiencing” the city; everyone was too busy looking down at their screens, instead of up at the wonder of their surroundings.

Like I said, I miss New York; maybe just the earlier version.

-Rob

• Dance- Part 1 by Jagger/Richards/Wood for the Rolling Stones album Emotional Rescue 1980.

That Homeless Guy

On my way to the grocery store this week, I saw a person who was quite clearly homeless walking on the side of the road.
I wanted to help, but I was driving while cars were speeding by and I would have had to make a u-turn, so i didn’t stop. I felt bad about it and it triggered another memory from the mid 60’s.
I was walking with my friend James toward 42nd Street and 7th Ave. During the mid 60’s, this was not a very desirable area . Drugs, prostitution, X rated movies, etc.
We were young teens at the time and were on our way to Macys to look for new sweaters, as Autumn was close upon us. We both had part time jobs while attending High School because money was tight in both of our homes.

Just before entering the store, we came upon a guy standing off to the side of the sidewalk.

The man is standing in the heat of the day, barefoot. His beard is long and dirty looking and his skin is cracked and weather worn.He wears a dirty tee shirt and jeans that are falling apart at the seams. There is a small , dirty plastic bag beside him, in which we assume are all his possessions.
He looks like he could be no older than his early thirties.
He is shaking a small aluminum cup, asking for some help from those passing by.
He looks like he hasn’t had a good meal in a long time.

Almost everyone passing takes little to no notice of him. They keep their heads down and avoid looking at him as they quickly walk past. In those days any homeless person on the streets was just considered “a bum”.

We certainly didn’t have very much money to spare, but, between us we did have some loose change. James and I exchange quick looks to confirm what we would do. We walk up to the guy and smile weakly while throwing the change in his cup.

He smiles back, and says; “thank you so much “ .
You would have thought we gave him $1,000.

We ask him a simple , yet dumb question; “Are you ok?”

He offers a weak smile and responds; “No; things are a mess right now…… I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

The first thing that catches our attention is that he sounds like an actor or something. His voice is crystal clear and he sounds very well educated.

We continue the conversation for a while and find out that he has been homeless and living on the street for almost a year.
He has a Business Degree from Rice University and had a job as a Human Resource Manager before being terminated.

He was terminated for making a stupid mistake that could not go without consequences, especially for an HR Manger.

He was caught smoking weed on Company property.

He admits that it was a dumb, stupid thing to do and wishes he could have a “do over” on this one. He tells us to be careful in our lives because “do overs” are not all that common.

He holds no bitterness toward his former company, and realizes that he broke very clear rules. He advises us to be honest in life…. not to agree to regulations which we have no intention of abiding by.
He ends our short conversation by saying that he wishes his former Company all the best.
He wishes us a happy life as he makes his way to another corner, hoping that it will bring better luck with his aluminum can. He thanks us again for our small gift.

James and I do not move…. we stand there looking at each other while realizing that this homeless, rumpled man is far from “a bum”. He is probably more intelligent and caring than the majority of those passing by and ignoring him without giving him even a look.

Looks can be deceiving, eh?

We then continue on to Macy’s to get purchase our sweaters.

We walked home later that day without any sweaters. The money that we had saved up somehow found its way to a dirty aluminum cup.

and, here’s the thing; today, so, so many years later I realize how fortunate and blessed I am, especially as I painfully recount the number of times that I did not take that man’s advise.

Life lessons can be hard…. and that memory is one of them.

Don.

The House under the Roller Coaster.

The House under the Roller Coaster

Life imitating art? A popular movie of the Seventies had a character that grew up in a house built right under the Cyclone Roller Coaster in Coney Island. It was a fun plot point, and I am sure when people saw the film, they naturally thought it was just a comedic idea from the mind of the writer/director. But those of us who frequented the Coney Island Amusement park back in the day, knew it wasn’t just a funny idea. There indeed was a house built right under a Roller Coaster there but it wasn’t the Cyclone; it was it’s equally popular (and terrifying) Thunderbolt that sat only blocks away. It wasn’t much to look at, and I am sure many people thought it was a park maintenance building or something like that. I mean who would build a house directly underneath a roller coaster?? Well it makes a bit more sense (not by much however) to learn that the original structure was a hotel built back when Coney Island was at it’s most popular, and by that I mean the 1890’s. It was called the Kensington Hotel and it was built in 1895. And can you believe some part of it stood until 1991 when fire destroyed whatever was left of it.

My friends and I used to love going to Coney Island, but the Coney Island of the 1970’s wasn’t my father’s Coney Island, that’s for sure. Part of the allure of it for us, was that is was a relic of another age in the city’s history; you could gaze upon signs painted on buildings long before you were born, pass by bars that hadn’t changed since they were “luncheonettes” during Prohibition, and yes go on a ride, the Cyclone for instance, that had been thrilling riders since it opened in 1927. Not to mention the famous Parachute Jump ride that thankfully wasn’t operating when I went, as I probably would have been stupid enough to try it. It saw the light of day at the 1939 World’s Fair in Queens. The huge Ferris Wheel, the Wonder Wheel, has been standing since it opened in 1920, and finally achieved landmark status in 1989. There was no shortage of attractions, that’s for sure; the list goes on: the House of Mirrors, the Funhouse (totally politically incorrect by today’s standards), the Circus Sideshow with it’s fire eaters, sword swallowers, and human pincushions, the Spook-O-Rama (equally politically incorrect), and let us not forget, when all else failed, you could always just seek out the block long Nathan’s and chow down on fries, hot dogs, and fried clams. 

But even with all that to see and experience, every time we visited, we had to check on the house under the Rollercoaster. We would stand there, trying to see inside, but because the house was gated off, the windows were too far away, and anyway, everything inside always looked dark. We had convinced ourselves that the house was empty, maybe abandoned, but we would see the garbage bins outside the side door full of bags, and often there was mail in the metal mailbox attached to the outside of the fence. Weird. I mean what the hell kind of address

did the place have?? #1 Thunderbolt Way??

One time when we stayed past our normal time (and would get in trouble for being late for dinner), it started to get dark with the sun setting on the ocean. We were walking by on our way to the subway station on Surf Avenue, when we saw a dim light in we thought was the living room, just beyond the front door. Aha! There was someone living there after all!!

The plot was thickening; we weren’t sure what plot but we had great imaginations and could make a mystery out of almost anything! We were determined to take a look inside. All we had to do was get inside that gate and get up close to one of the windows and have a look. So that’s what we proceeded to do, the ever darkening skies covering our approach. Well we got as far as opening the gate door and taking a step inside. That was a cue for a huge Rottweiler we had never seen before to come running from the other side of the house, barking and growling at the same time. We had about three seconds of “where did he come from??!” before we decided it really wasn’t that important where he came from so much as where he was headed, as in right for us! Time to vacate, and quickly! Nothing like being pursued by an enraged dog baring quite an impressive set of sharp teeth to convince you that you really can run faster than you thought!  And that’s what we did, and didn’t stop until we made it to the subway station.

So much for solving any mystery; sometimes the unexplained just stays the unexplained. Every time we went back, we walked past the house, its windows eternally dark; we never saw any signs of life besides that dim light, and that one time, the dog….whose dog? Who knows? We never saw it again, but then we never attempted to go past that fence again either. No, after that, we contented ourselves with going on the rides, seeing the freak shows, getting scared at the fun house, and chowing down at Nathan’s. The mystery of the house under the Rollercoaster would remain a mystery. 

It remained long after the Thunderbolt was shut down, and fell into disrepair, a rotting relic of another age. Photos from the 80’s show a lonely skeleton of what once was an exciting ride waiting for the wrecking ball, and beneath its frame, the house still standing, it too aging into oblivion, taking its place in that very strange gallery of “what was” that is a specialty of places like Coney Island. 

-Rob

How I Got My Cat

Childhood Pets and How I got my Present Cat !

I would guess that if you were fortunate enough to have a pet when you were a child, most of those memories are very pleasant.
The first pet that I ever had was a small, tan colored dog. He was a Pekingese named Rusty and his coloring looked a lot like rust; thus his name.
My most vivid memory is of him simply laying on the floor next to me while I was playing with my Slinky or Silly Putty( those from the 60’s remember those, don’t you?) or while I was watching Howdy Doodie or Captain Kangaroo. ( Now, I know that you must remember those!) He was always just content to lay there and let me pet his adorable head. He crossed the Rainbow Bridge when I was still very young.

Over the years the variety of pets we had was quite wide. Most of this was due to my younger brother and the fact that Dad didn’t want another dog and go through the pain of loosing it.

My brother and I are both animal
lovers and I well remember his turtles, fish, parakeets and hamsters and guinea pigs. My favorite was his beautiful pale blue parakeet, Prince. What a personable, affectionate and funny little bird he was!

It wasn’t until I had move out on my own that I had dogs again, and I loved them all. I’ve had a few cats as well, but unfortunately, I was allergic to them, so it was kinda hard.

However let me fast forward from a childhood in 60’s to adulthood in 2014.
If you were not aware of it, August is International Cat Month, and that makes it the perfect time to share the rather enchanting story of how my wife and I became the chosen humans for our very own feline overlord, Owen.
Picture this: It was Christmas of 2014, and we were still relatively new faces to the Texas community we were living in. Our son, who lived in Oklahoma, was visiting for the holidays. Our two daughters lived in Virginia and Seattle, respectively, and were unable to visit.
This trip was already a bit of a whirlwind because just a few days prior, he’d dropped a massive bombshell on us – he was joining the U.S. Navy! We were completely blindsided; it was definitely not something we’d ever seen coming from him.

He arrived a few nights before Christmas, and we decided to treat him to dinner at a nice restaurant we had become very fond of. As always, the food was absolutely delicious.

However, as we were winding down with coffee and dessert, he suddenly got really quiet. We could tell something heavy was on his mind, so we gently asked if everything was alright.

That’s when he started to tell us. Just half a year earlier, he’d rescued this absolutely gorgeous black kitten, whom he’d lovingly named Owen (a nod to the Owen sisters from the move, “Practical Magic,” how cool is that?). He adored Owen with all his heart, but with his Navy departure looming, he just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him with an uncertain future. His big question, delivered with a hint of desperation, was if we would consider taking Owen in.

Now, there was a tiny complication, and he was very much aware of it: As previously mentioned, I had serious cat allergy issues. We’re talking breathing issues, coughing , sneezing, the whole kit and caboodle. I’m sure he saw the skepticism etched across my face, and the sad, sympathetic look on his mom’s.
Then, it happened. I watched a single, glistening tear fall from our future sailor’s eye. And just like that, game over. My heart melted. Owen was coming home with us.

The pure joy and relief that lit up our son’s face in that moment were truly beautiful. Owen was officially part of our family. I was a Cat Dad.

Fast forward to today: Owen just celebrated his 12th birthday! And here’s the crazy part – I have never, not even once, had an allergic reaction to him. Not a sniffle, not a sneeze! He has been my steadfast companion through all my cancer treatments, always there, curling up beside me, and even waking me with his gentle purrs at 3:30 in the morning. He’s my precious baby, my furry little good luck charm, my “Fair Winds and Following Seas.”
And honestly, I love that cat more than words can express.

Don.