Sing it girls: Cher says ..If I could turn back time.
Grandma watching me as a child in her apartment in Astoria, Queens NYC in a tenement-style brownstone walk-up.
The bathroom of her apt and the neighboring building sharing an air-shaft into which both windows opened. [both windows on same side, nothing to see, but noises travelled! *OMG* When her neighbors farted in their bathroom her bathroom window rattled!]
Her bathtub with the ball-and-claw legs. There was no shower, you had a hose that went over your head to wash you hair.
The old fashined one-pipe steam heat that hissed and clunked and purred on a cold night.
The really old electrical wiring that had horizontal outlets (power-points) that were embedded in the really tall base-board mouldings. Room lights in the center of the ceiling with pull-chain switches (I can still hear the distinctive "click" of the switch.)
The "We-stink-house" 1950's refrigerator with rounded upper corners, one door and flasd /cycle defroest that circulated hot refigerant gas through the tubes to defrost the freezer
The blue deco formica table with chrome legs and a drawer in it. The Breuer chairs.
The plastic tablecloth and the dowel ("rolling pin") that would get whipped out when she made a phyllo-dough by hand for a pita. (Spinach pie.)
The Rotal Rose brand gas stove she had that was so old it had legs, no thermostat and no pilot lights. There was a flip down top to hide the burners and that functioned as a back-splash.
The Eureka brand trapezoidal vacuum cleaner with Vibra-beat in a blue-greenish color (Style "L" bags)and a wrap-around bumper. Foot switch in rear.
The huge window fan that could suck the paint off the walls.
(We never had one growing up; too risky.)
The GE brand electric plug-in kithen wall clock.
Her Singer foot-treadle sewing machine that now holds my television in my bedroom.
Going to church on a Sunday and enjoying the candles, the magical and mystical gold-leaf icons, the incense the byzantine-style chant, but most of all having a cough there and grandma's magical pourse would open and out would come a candy or a cough-drop. Getting a chill and a thrill in one's spine as certain magical phrases emanated forth from the priest's mouth.
Grandmas ethnic first/given name so strange to the English-speaking world that the nearest pronuciation [as uttered by the mailman] was "ugly" *O M G* ROFL LMAO. Everyone I knew then had their "real" names and their Anglicized verison.
But most of all I remember being 7 years old and she had just died. My mother was ironing. Dad came home from work and she was inconolable. No one said anything, But I knew she was gone forever. If only we could see our dearly departed again even for 10 minutes. LOVE NEVER DIES. It merely changes form.
To be young. To be innocent. To be pure of heart. To re-capture our mis-spent youth *SIGH*
I miss the days when hope was abundant and life was care-free!
Peace out y'all! I'm gonna go have a good cry.
Grandma watching me as a child in her apartment in Astoria, Queens NYC in a tenement-style brownstone walk-up.
The bathroom of her apt and the neighboring building sharing an air-shaft into which both windows opened. [both windows on same side, nothing to see, but noises travelled! *OMG* When her neighbors farted in their bathroom her bathroom window rattled!]
Her bathtub with the ball-and-claw legs. There was no shower, you had a hose that went over your head to wash you hair.
The old fashined one-pipe steam heat that hissed and clunked and purred on a cold night.
The really old electrical wiring that had horizontal outlets (power-points) that were embedded in the really tall base-board mouldings. Room lights in the center of the ceiling with pull-chain switches (I can still hear the distinctive "click" of the switch.)
The "We-stink-house" 1950's refrigerator with rounded upper corners, one door and flasd /cycle defroest that circulated hot refigerant gas through the tubes to defrost the freezer
The blue deco formica table with chrome legs and a drawer in it. The Breuer chairs.
The plastic tablecloth and the dowel ("rolling pin") that would get whipped out when she made a phyllo-dough by hand for a pita. (Spinach pie.)
The Rotal Rose brand gas stove she had that was so old it had legs, no thermostat and no pilot lights. There was a flip down top to hide the burners and that functioned as a back-splash.
The Eureka brand trapezoidal vacuum cleaner with Vibra-beat in a blue-greenish color (Style "L" bags)and a wrap-around bumper. Foot switch in rear.
The huge window fan that could suck the paint off the walls.
(We never had one growing up; too risky.)
The GE brand electric plug-in kithen wall clock.
Her Singer foot-treadle sewing machine that now holds my television in my bedroom.
Going to church on a Sunday and enjoying the candles, the magical and mystical gold-leaf icons, the incense the byzantine-style chant, but most of all having a cough there and grandma's magical pourse would open and out would come a candy or a cough-drop. Getting a chill and a thrill in one's spine as certain magical phrases emanated forth from the priest's mouth.
Grandmas ethnic first/given name so strange to the English-speaking world that the nearest pronuciation [as uttered by the mailman] was "ugly" *O M G* ROFL LMAO. Everyone I knew then had their "real" names and their Anglicized verison.
But most of all I remember being 7 years old and she had just died. My mother was ironing. Dad came home from work and she was inconolable. No one said anything, But I knew she was gone forever. If only we could see our dearly departed again even for 10 minutes. LOVE NEVER DIES. It merely changes form.
To be young. To be innocent. To be pure of heart. To re-capture our mis-spent youth *SIGH*
I miss the days when hope was abundant and life was care-free!
Peace out y'all! I'm gonna go have a good cry.
