Latch-Key Kids, the CB Radio and Piddle

Growing up in The Bronx, I experienced a safe childhood. I was surrounded by all my immediate family members, four aunts, four uncles, their respective children, my cousins, and a myriad of neighbors and their offspring. Of course, far be it for me to exclude the original Mrs. Goldberg.

This Mrs. Goldberg lived in a strategically placed corner apartment on the fourth floor of the apartment building. She could see everyone and everything for many city blocks. She took very seriously her position as town gossiper, a position she bestowed upon herself. Mrs. Goldberg believed one of her key responsivities was to report back to our parents on the behaviors and misbehaviors of us kids.

My apartment building was the equivalent of a not so typical small town.
Our dads worked, our moms worked at being moms. We walked to school, came home for lunch, and walked back to school; then we returned home. Our after-school activities included homework, playing outside, then dinner.

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Wouldn’t you agree my dear friends, those were the days?

We kids always played outside. Some of our favorite activities were potsie, kick the can, hit the curb, stickball, jump rope, double Dutch, and creating complicated and innovative new games for the pink Spalding ball. I would take a guess that the origin of street art began with the multicolored chalk we used in gutter or sidewalk artwork.

Latch key was not a description known to us. Yet!

I was a working mom. My girls were part of a generation known as “latch key kids.” All of us working moms had keys made for our children in order for our children to enter their homes after school.

They knew what a typewriter was/is. My girls could do their laundry; make their lunch, usually one or two slices of cheese between two pieces of bread. (This particular activity spawned a fascinating true story for another time) There were times they remembered to clean their rooms, usually when friends were coming over.

On road trips, the girls would use our C.B. radio to talk to truckers and other C.B. enthusiasts who were on the road traveling at the same time we were. We had lots of C.B. friends. We sported our very own descriptive handles. Each of the girls had their own handle: the Seeker, Cajun Queen, Little Bear and Connecticut Yankee. No one was surprised to learn I was the Lady Silver Bullet.

On our road trips, the girls found creative ways to keep themselves entertained, despite cell phones, iPads and the Internet not yet having been invented.

They were always on the lookout for a piddle (an approaching car with only one headlight) or hunting for every letter of the alphabet on passing billboards. I-Spy was another quite popular pastime. Spying different colored cars or passing motorist’s hair color. My own personal favorite was playing with mommy’s hair. Each of the girls took turns. My hair was divided into four quarters. Each one of the girls reserved a quarter and created hairdos they believed to be prize worthy. Stopping at a gas station to fill up our car and our tummies drew many looks of total disbelief.

Are you reading this shpiel wondering, why do I bring this particular missive to you now? I write this in the hope you can look back on your own memories of a time when the world did not feel upside down. Remembering a time when we would awaken and see a sunrise without the inevitable announcement of yet another new world crisis.

The good news is Chanukah is around the corner. This year, let us all celebrate Chanukah acknowledging the many sunrises bringing miracles into our lives.