Just a Little Cup of Kindness

July brings memories of grueling hot summer days and nights growing up in the projects in Brooklyn, New York where there were no screens in the windows and definitely no air conditioning.  During the daytime we were allowed to go outside and play and believe me, I stayed out most of the day.  There were times when the Johnny Pump would be opened and all the neighborhood kids would get to play in the water. I guess that would be considered our sprinkler system.  We could only have it on for a short time, because it would inevitably lower the water pressure which would be dangerous if there was a fire. There were times when my mother had a little extra money and we could walk to the pool in Brownsville.  It was the “Betsy Head” pool which was a couple of miles from the house.  No problem for us, we would walk there and back. The pool originally opened in August of 1936 and remains to this day a cornerstone of the community.  In 2008 the Betsy Head pool was designated an official NY City landmark. 

Most nights during the summer months, I would sit in the window and watch the buses come and go and all the nighttime activity in the neighborhood.  My sister and I shared bunk beds and my bed was on the top.  I liked being up because when I got tired I could just lay there and imagine I was somewhere else. I would play little finger games and make shadows on the ceiling or if I was fortunate, I would get to listen to my father’s transistor radio. I loved all kinds of music so whatever station I could get a clear signal on, that’s what I’d listen to. After my brother came along, when I was 10, I would often lay and listen to him talking to his imaginary friends sometimes way into the night. Somehow we managed to get not only the bunk beds, a dresser, and sewing cabinet in that very small room, a crib for my little big brother was added, along with an assortment of toys underneath. It was a very cramped space – but nevertheless, it was OUR space!

I don’t know about my sister, but I loved when holidays rolled around.  The 4th of July my mother would take us to a local parade in the morning after getting us all dressed up in nice play clothes, hair done with matching ribbons. I always enjoyed seeing parades. On Saturdays If my mother had money, she would sometimes take us to Coney Island. We would get up very early in the morning. My mother would pack lunch and she would carry a thermos filled with ice tea and a stack of cups. We would carry a blanket and towels and off we would go. We just needed enough money for train fare and If we had a little extra, money to rent an umbrella. Early on, before I turned six, I could ride the subway for free. We would spend all day at the beach, playing in the sand and making sand castles or digging holes and burying each other.  I liked that once you started digging in the sand, as you went deeper, the sand was nice and cool.  I never like getting in the ocean so no worries about me drowning. I’d stand along the shore line just enough to get my feet and legs wet from the splashing of the waves. I can remember one occasion, when it was time to go home, late in the evening, my mother didn’t have enough money for us to get home. Somehow I don’t remember being worried. I seemed to instinctively know that she  would find a way. I remember asking my mother what we were going to do. She told us to wait by the turnstile while she went to the token booth. It seems that she had some money, but not enough for the complete fare.  We stood silently by the turnstile just waiting. I could see the token booth worker’s face. He didn’t look at all friendly. This was the late 1950s and often white people weren’t very nice to us. After what seemed like an hour but actually it was probably only a few minutes, he came out of the booth and walked over to where we were and let us (all of us) ride for free. It’s times like those that gave me faith in humanity. Recent times have caused me to worry, not only about our country as a whole, but also about how individually there is a lack of civility and kindness towards each other. My godmother always admonished me to show kindness. She taught me the “Golden Rule” …..”Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” (Mathew 7:12). Incidents like the kindness that was shown to us that late evening in July at Coney Island, shaped my view of the world as a young child. My favorite song in elementary school was “It could be a wonderful world” . The lyrics, which stay with me to this day, convey a simple but very important message….

“ If each little kid could have fresh milk each day, if each working man had enough time to play, if each homeless soul had a good place to stay, it could be a wonderful world. 

If we could consider each other, a neighbor, a friend or a brother, it could be a wonderful, wonderful world, it could be a wonderful world. 

If there were no poor and the rich were content, if neighbors were welcomed wherever they went, if each of us knew what true brotherhood meant, it could be a wonderful world.”

Consequently, I grew up with love in my heart for all kinds of people. Maybe that is  the naivety in me. Does that mean I was exempt from the cruelties of racism? Absolutely NOT! After all, I grew up In the late 50s, 60s and 70s, some of the most volatile, racially unsettling times in history. But I’ve come to know, experience and love all kinds of people from all walks of life. You don’t have to have much but as long as you show love and kindness and extend mercy and grace, it comes back to you tenfold!!!

“Memories of our lives, of our works, and our deeds will continue in others”……..Rosa Parks