SUNDAY IN THE PARK WITH MY MOTHER AND AUNT

When my husband and I moved to South Orange, New Jersey, in 1981, Meadowlands Park in our small town gave my mother, my aunt, and me a chance to find a spot in the shade on a sun-filled day and take a trip down memory lane. Reminiscent of my childhood forays with my family, a retreat to a local park, to use a Yiddish term, was  ah, a mechayeh  (colloquially, like a cool breeze on a hot day).

Whether nearby my childhood homestead on Chandler Avenue in Roselle, New Jersey, playing at Warinanco Park, or Weequahic Park, down the street from my aunt’s apartment on Lyons Avenue in Newark, New Jersey, we made lasting memories. Those thoughts continue to be comforting.

Years back, in the 50s and 60s, I would toss a ball with my brother, do cartwheels, and feed the squirrels as my mother caught up on the family news with my father’s sister, who visited weekly. Since my mother never drove a car, my single aunt would occasionally chauffeur us to one of the nearby parks, pull out a vinyl covered cushion from her trunk and toss it on the grass for me to perch on while she and my mother sat on a park bench. To this day, I can recall painfully peeling my sweaty thighs from that sticky, red, well-worn padding.

In the picture from 1983, I graduated to a seat on the bench next to the adults. My mother and aunt, routinely wearing dresses, and I, in colorful green shorts, were captured smiling for the camera. No doubt those elders had visions of me playing in the grass. These days when my husband and I are watching our grandchildren play, it’s we who reminisce about the stages of life throughout the generations.  

My brother Stu and me at Warinanco Park

There I am doing cartwheels at Warinanco Park while my mother sat nearby on a park bench in 1962 or 1963

June 2023 Our grandchildren Solly and Dizzy playing in the rain