In my last post, I wrote about some of the vacation destinations we visited when I was a child. Some of the places we visited yearly while on our vacation are worth a mention as well. I have no idea how big the Poconos is, but we always seemed to be close to a few of the same places.
No matter where we went, the first thing we did was hit the grocery store. Only an Italian family would be sure to buy food, since you never know when someone might need a little something to nosh. This was no ordinary trip to the grocery store. First of all, we all went together. All 5 of us. Most trips to the grocery store were done by my mother, alone, in the evening, so she didn't have to take us kids. When I was a little older she would take me, and we had the best mother-daughter time. But I digress...that must be a separate post. We would hit the supermarket for things such as breakfast cereal, snacks, soda, and other things we might die without. One especially wonderful thing was that my mother would let us get those multi-packs of the mini-cereal boxes. Oh yeah, I am talking Frosted Flakes, Fruit Loops, Lucky Charms, Sugar Pops...pure sugar heaven. We were allowed this luxury only on vacation. Sure there were those mini-boxes of Total and Product 19 they shoved into the pack, but if you were wily, you could get a sugar cereal and leave your younger brothers in the dust.
The next thing we did was go to a small store called Jamesway. I'm guessing at the name. It was like a tiny Wal-Mart, before that huge retailer put all the small guys out of business. We'd get some sand toys, beach chairs, and maybe a badminton set. Depended on what we could find from the prior year's trip.
We spent most of our days at either lakes or pools, whichever was closest. We also went to touristy places such as the Stroudsberg Railroad and Dutch Wonderland, a small amusement park. I think we went to a petting zoo once, and my father had a fit because they put bumper stickers on all the cars in the parking lot. He was NOT pleased. My brain has not retained many other tourist sights, but I do remember going out to eat. You must understand that we did not eat out a lot when I was a kid. The Ponderosa was a big trip for us. However, on vacation, we ate out EVERY night.
Here are a few restaurants we never missed:
The Pioneer Diner. This place was shaped like something...perhaps a railroad car, or now that I think about it, maybe a covered wagon? In any event, this eatery was a highlight. The food was horrible; my mother nearly died when one of us was served chicken parmigiana with KETCHUP and mozzarella on top. But, they had lots of kid-friendly, fried, cheap fare, and so we went.
The Little Brown Jug. We happened upon this place by accident, if memory serves me. We originally entered a fancier place, and my father harrumphed about the prices and marched us all out of there. We went across the street to the Little Brown Jug, a casual Italian eatery. They had red-and-white checkerboard tablecloths, and the price must have been right because we went back every year. I think the food was pretty good. I also think that it was near the souvenir shop we visited each year. It was a pretty big shop, with all the requisite tacky items, such as decorative spoons, little leather purses and bracelets, small toys, and tee-shirts that said "Someone went to the Poconos and all they got me was this lousy tee-shirt." Har har har. I seem to remember that the store had a Native American theme; perhaps "Poconos" is Native American for "crappy souvenirs". However, no matter how crappy they were, we moaned and groaned if we couldn't get anything. We always did get something, though, even if it was small.
Bradleys. This was a family-style place and I recall that it was delicious. They had turkey and roast chicken, and maybe even prime rib. They brought vegetables and other sides, such as stuffing, out on platters and you passed it around the table. And they brought plenty of it. This was a big night, since I think it was a little pricier than the other places.
Now I mention Bradley's last since it is associated with a famous incident that to this day is part of Salamo-Pantaleno folklore. One summer, when I was about 15, Con Edison's union workers went on strike. Management, of which my Dad was a part, worked non-stop, reading meters, fixing lines, and doing any job usually done by the union workers. This left him unable to take our family vacation to Timber Trails. I am still not sure how or why my mother agreed to this, but she took us kids there for the week, along with her parents (Belle and Ray Salamo), and my Aunt Paula, Uncle Arthur and cousin Christian, who was about 18 months at the time. My grandfather's personality merits a post of its own, but suffice it to say he could be grumpy and disagreeable, and once he liked something, he stuck with it. And he loved Bradley's, likely because he could eat all he wanted and felt he got his money's worth. On the Thursday morning of our week together (our 6th day of vacation), we were sitting around the breakfast table, deciding where to eat dinner. (This is another Italian trait; always plan your next meal, as you're eating your current meal.) We had already been to Bradley's twice, at Grandpa's urging, and he kept saying he wanted to go again. My Aunt Paula was thumbing thru the local guide, looking for a new place to eat. She suggested a few places, all of which my grandfather pooh-poohed. He kept insisting he wanted Bradley's. Finally, my poor Aunt made one last suggestion, which Grandpa growled at, and my Aunt, in desperation, hurled the guide book across the table at my Grandfather and shouted "WELL YOU FIND A PLACE TO EAT THEN!". Things got very quiet. I don't remember where we ate that night, but I don't think it was Bradleys.
Epilogue. Just for fun, I googled Timber Trails and looked at some of the real estate. It looks as though it has become quite the vacation destination, complete with golf, tennis, club house, pools, and a whole array of annoying organized activities (e.g., Valentines Dance, Breakfast with Santa, Casino Night, etc. I hate organized activities.) One house was on Leatherstocking Lane and another was on Conestoga Trail. A huge bell went off in my head, as I recall riding my bike on those very roads (see prior post). WOW! I think Bradleys burned down, and I found no listing for Little Brown Jug; however, the Pioneer Diner seems to still be there! Perhaps we'll visit this summer and order the Chicken parm, just for fun.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Hey Kids, Only 6 Hours to the World's Largest Ball of Twine
Every year the Children's Craniofacial Association (CCA) sponsors an annual family weekend. First of all, for those of you who don't know, CCA is a non-profit organization dedicated to helping children who have been born with facial disfigurement and their families. It is an awesome organization and their events are very enjoyable. It is held in different parts of the U.S. each year. We have been to two of these family weekends: one in Hershey, PA and one in Myrtle Beach, SC. In the ads for these trips, many people are quoted as saying that they"make this weekend part of their annual family vacation." I wish we could go every year, but I am not sure we have reached the status in life where we have an "annual family vacation." First of all, flying in a plane costs plenty of money, not to mention the price of hotels, food, activities, etc. Secondly, family vacations are exhausting and anything but relaxing for the adults involved.
I think my family reached "annual family vacation" status when I was about 7 or 8. We went to a place, I believe called Pennswood, in the Poconos in PA. (FYI, there is an item in the by-laws of New York City that states that all city residents may vacation in one of 2 places: the Poconos or Florida. You must start with the Poconos and after - and only after - at least 3 years' experience, you may attempt Florida.) Anyway, I remember little about Pennswood except that it was like a little cabin on some sort of man made lake. I do believe that this is the most rustic place my mother ever stayed of her own free will. I do remember that it had a pool, and one day I got it in my head that I was Esther Williams and just jumped off the diving board into water 5 feet deep. My father had to jump in and save me.
The next year we went to the Host Town. Compared to Pennswood, this was like a country club. Again, my memory is fuzzy, but it was like a hotel resort type of place. They had a pool (and maybe a game room with pinball and stuff; no video games in those days).They had a dining room and each evening we would go over for dinner. I recall thinking that this was very fancy indeed; you got a fruit cup, I think, and then some sort of soup or salad before you even had your meal! Wow! Plus they came around with dinner rolls and the butter was in little pats shaped like flowers. They served things like prime rib and roasted chicken. To a little girl from Staten Island it was the dining room at the Waldorf Astoria. I also recall that my baby brother Matt was an infant, and so my parents would take turns going to eat with us older kids: My Mom and I would go together, then my Dad and brother Mike; or my Dad and I would go, then Mom and Mike. This was also very exotic. I think we had breakfast there as well, with the waitresses taking turns holding Matt while my parents ate.
After a few years at the Host Town I believe we went to Naomi Cottages, on Lake Naomi, wherever the hell that is. This cabin was more like a little house, and we spent most of our days at the lake. I don't recall this vacation well. Then our neighbors, the DelPretes, bought a second home in a Pocono development called Timber Trails. I think the house had 4 bedrooms. It had an open floor plan and was like a county home, with all the comforts of a city home. We each got to choose a bedroom. It also had a tree house and a tire swing. Heaven! Best of all, there was a road that went through the development that was for residents (and renters only). There was very little traffic so I was allowed to take one of the bikes in the house and ride around by myself. The freedom! I would explore all the little side roads that had rustic names such as Evergreen Drive, Country Crescent, and Barnowl Road. I loved Timber Trails, although I do remember a skunk spraying us all one night. I am not sure what my father had to do to get my mother to return to this house, but we went back to Timber Trails several times. Remember this place, as it features prominently in the second half of this post.
When I was 13 and had finished 8th grade, my parents submitted their application to the NYC Vacation Board and were granted permission for the big Florida trip. In June of 1981 we headed to Disney World. We stayed "off site"in a tiny hotel room, where my parents and brothers shared 2 double beds and I slept on a cot. I was just happy I didn't have to share. Disney World was incredible. I loved the rides and everything about it. I can only imagine how hard it was for my parents to afford this trip, but we all had a great time, at least from my perspective. Four years' later, when I graduated from high school, we went back to Disney World. Of course, by the this point I was too cool for anything, but I secretly had fun, even though I likely moaned and groaned about missing my stupid boyfriend and any other highlights of the Staten Island summer season. We stayed in one of the Disney hotels this time, and each night someone would come and turn down your blanket and leave a piece of chocolate there! I was sure this was a classy joint.
Despite all the mayhem and money these trips cost my parents, whenever I think about them I have a laugh and enjoy the memories. Stay tuned for Part Two: Annual Family Vacation Traditions.
I think my family reached "annual family vacation" status when I was about 7 or 8. We went to a place, I believe called Pennswood, in the Poconos in PA. (FYI, there is an item in the by-laws of New York City that states that all city residents may vacation in one of 2 places: the Poconos or Florida. You must start with the Poconos and after - and only after - at least 3 years' experience, you may attempt Florida.) Anyway, I remember little about Pennswood except that it was like a little cabin on some sort of man made lake. I do believe that this is the most rustic place my mother ever stayed of her own free will. I do remember that it had a pool, and one day I got it in my head that I was Esther Williams and just jumped off the diving board into water 5 feet deep. My father had to jump in and save me.
The next year we went to the Host Town. Compared to Pennswood, this was like a country club. Again, my memory is fuzzy, but it was like a hotel resort type of place. They had a pool (and maybe a game room with pinball and stuff; no video games in those days).They had a dining room and each evening we would go over for dinner. I recall thinking that this was very fancy indeed; you got a fruit cup, I think, and then some sort of soup or salad before you even had your meal! Wow! Plus they came around with dinner rolls and the butter was in little pats shaped like flowers. They served things like prime rib and roasted chicken. To a little girl from Staten Island it was the dining room at the Waldorf Astoria. I also recall that my baby brother Matt was an infant, and so my parents would take turns going to eat with us older kids: My Mom and I would go together, then my Dad and brother Mike; or my Dad and I would go, then Mom and Mike. This was also very exotic. I think we had breakfast there as well, with the waitresses taking turns holding Matt while my parents ate.
After a few years at the Host Town I believe we went to Naomi Cottages, on Lake Naomi, wherever the hell that is. This cabin was more like a little house, and we spent most of our days at the lake. I don't recall this vacation well. Then our neighbors, the DelPretes, bought a second home in a Pocono development called Timber Trails. I think the house had 4 bedrooms. It had an open floor plan and was like a county home, with all the comforts of a city home. We each got to choose a bedroom. It also had a tree house and a tire swing. Heaven! Best of all, there was a road that went through the development that was for residents (and renters only). There was very little traffic so I was allowed to take one of the bikes in the house and ride around by myself. The freedom! I would explore all the little side roads that had rustic names such as Evergreen Drive, Country Crescent, and Barnowl Road. I loved Timber Trails, although I do remember a skunk spraying us all one night. I am not sure what my father had to do to get my mother to return to this house, but we went back to Timber Trails several times. Remember this place, as it features prominently in the second half of this post.
When I was 13 and had finished 8th grade, my parents submitted their application to the NYC Vacation Board and were granted permission for the big Florida trip. In June of 1981 we headed to Disney World. We stayed "off site"in a tiny hotel room, where my parents and brothers shared 2 double beds and I slept on a cot. I was just happy I didn't have to share. Disney World was incredible. I loved the rides and everything about it. I can only imagine how hard it was for my parents to afford this trip, but we all had a great time, at least from my perspective. Four years' later, when I graduated from high school, we went back to Disney World. Of course, by the this point I was too cool for anything, but I secretly had fun, even though I likely moaned and groaned about missing my stupid boyfriend and any other highlights of the Staten Island summer season. We stayed in one of the Disney hotels this time, and each night someone would come and turn down your blanket and leave a piece of chocolate there! I was sure this was a classy joint.
Despite all the mayhem and money these trips cost my parents, whenever I think about them I have a laugh and enjoy the memories. Stay tuned for Part Two: Annual Family Vacation Traditions.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Sorry, Mrs. Beeler, you have no sick days left
Well I must apologize to my three readers who have deprived of my witty repartee for the past month, but it seems I contracted a nasty case of pneumonia. I have never been so sick in my life. I don't recall many childhood illnesses, but it's safe to say this was the "sickest" I've ever been as an adult.
Being sick as an adult is very different than being sick as a child. Maybe it's more accurate to say that being sick as a parent is much different than being sick at any other stage in life. When I was a child I enjoyed being sick. That's right, I loved it. You must understand that being sick had many advantages. First, I did not have to go to school. School was boring and no fun at all, so being spared a few days of this drudgery was pure joy. Second, my mother waited on me hand and foot. No one knows how to take care of a sick child better than an Italian mother. (Thanks Mom!) She would bring the small black and white TV into my room and I could watch it all day. At this point in time we had only two TVs in the house (shocking!). I did not get one in my room until I was a teenager, so having the little black and white all to myself was bliss. As an added bonus, she brought me my meals in my room. Understand that in my house, this was a very big deal. My mother had (and still has) better hearing than a bloodhound and she could sense that food was being moved out of the designated eating zone (i.e., the kitchen). You could open that bag of Doritos without a sound, place them gingerly on a paper towel, and tiptoe to your room, all the time thinking your were safe. But, as soon as you cracked the door to your room, a voice would come from nowhere: "Are you eating in your room????" So, suffice it to say, eating in your room with permission was extraordinary.
The other wonderful thing about being sick was that my father always brought me a book. Picture books when I was little, but as I got older, I could count on a brand new hardcover Nancy Drew anytime I was ill. I loved Nancy Drew. In fact, every once in a while, I'll pick one up while Ava is in the library and read a little. These books were like gold to me. I loved all the stories of Nancy, girl detective; her beau Ned Nickerson; and her friends Bess and George (George was a girl, but somewhat man-like.) The mysteries always built to an engaging climax, and I could never read them fast enough. I don't know if girls read Nancy Drew anymore. I knew that the books were somewhat "old-fashioned" when I was a kid; Nancy wore dresses and peddle pushers, and her hair in a flip style. She had elegant manners. She drove an older convertible, and something about the pencil sketch drawings told me that these stories took place in a time before I was born. Nowadays, Nancy Drew would have a belly ring, drive a Hummer, and be smacking her gum while addressing her clients, "Yo yo yo, wus up?". Shudder.
But I digress...as a child, I don't remember that being sick was a bad thing. I am sure my poor mother - who had to take care of all 3 of us with the chickenpox at once - does not recall our childhood illnesses with any fondness whatsoever. Now that I have a child I know why.
When you are a mother, your child does not really care that you feel like crap. It's not because they are bad kids, it's because they are self-centered and can't fathom anything but their own needs. They still pry your eyeballs open at 6 am, looking for breakfast. They still need baths and help getting dressed. They want you to play even though you'd rather crawl into a hole. And the show must go on. There is little time to rest when you are a sick Mom. You can catch a few winks while they're at school, but if you have a child under school age, you are SOL. Even as a single adult, you have the luxury of staying in bed all day while getting paid for a sick day. Mothers have no such luck.
In any event, I am glad I am feeling better. However, I'd give almost anything to have my Mom take care of me when I am sick, even if I am 41. And I could sure go for a nice new Nancy Drew.
Being sick as an adult is very different than being sick as a child. Maybe it's more accurate to say that being sick as a parent is much different than being sick at any other stage in life. When I was a child I enjoyed being sick. That's right, I loved it. You must understand that being sick had many advantages. First, I did not have to go to school. School was boring and no fun at all, so being spared a few days of this drudgery was pure joy. Second, my mother waited on me hand and foot. No one knows how to take care of a sick child better than an Italian mother. (Thanks Mom!) She would bring the small black and white TV into my room and I could watch it all day. At this point in time we had only two TVs in the house (shocking!). I did not get one in my room until I was a teenager, so having the little black and white all to myself was bliss. As an added bonus, she brought me my meals in my room. Understand that in my house, this was a very big deal. My mother had (and still has) better hearing than a bloodhound and she could sense that food was being moved out of the designated eating zone (i.e., the kitchen). You could open that bag of Doritos without a sound, place them gingerly on a paper towel, and tiptoe to your room, all the time thinking your were safe. But, as soon as you cracked the door to your room, a voice would come from nowhere: "Are you eating in your room????" So, suffice it to say, eating in your room with permission was extraordinary.
The other wonderful thing about being sick was that my father always brought me a book. Picture books when I was little, but as I got older, I could count on a brand new hardcover Nancy Drew anytime I was ill. I loved Nancy Drew. In fact, every once in a while, I'll pick one up while Ava is in the library and read a little. These books were like gold to me. I loved all the stories of Nancy, girl detective; her beau Ned Nickerson; and her friends Bess and George (George was a girl, but somewhat man-like.) The mysteries always built to an engaging climax, and I could never read them fast enough. I don't know if girls read Nancy Drew anymore. I knew that the books were somewhat "old-fashioned" when I was a kid; Nancy wore dresses and peddle pushers, and her hair in a flip style. She had elegant manners. She drove an older convertible, and something about the pencil sketch drawings told me that these stories took place in a time before I was born. Nowadays, Nancy Drew would have a belly ring, drive a Hummer, and be smacking her gum while addressing her clients, "Yo yo yo, wus up?". Shudder.
But I digress...as a child, I don't remember that being sick was a bad thing. I am sure my poor mother - who had to take care of all 3 of us with the chickenpox at once - does not recall our childhood illnesses with any fondness whatsoever. Now that I have a child I know why.
When you are a mother, your child does not really care that you feel like crap. It's not because they are bad kids, it's because they are self-centered and can't fathom anything but their own needs. They still pry your eyeballs open at 6 am, looking for breakfast. They still need baths and help getting dressed. They want you to play even though you'd rather crawl into a hole. And the show must go on. There is little time to rest when you are a sick Mom. You can catch a few winks while they're at school, but if you have a child under school age, you are SOL. Even as a single adult, you have the luxury of staying in bed all day while getting paid for a sick day. Mothers have no such luck.
In any event, I am glad I am feeling better. However, I'd give almost anything to have my Mom take care of me when I am sick, even if I am 41. And I could sure go for a nice new Nancy Drew.
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