Sometimes Even Parents Need Help!

Coney Island, Brooklyn, NY

One thing for sure is that you can’t pick your parents.  I guess it’s best that way. If all goes well, and you are lucky  (or in my case, blessed), you wind up with loving parents. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that my parents loved each other but for sure they loved me. They managed to do all the things that parents are supposed to do…… feed you, protect you, encourage you, provide shelter. Consequently, I grew up pretty normal. I always knew that if I were in trouble, either one of them – or both, would come to my rescue.  So pretty much I felt quite secure. Although we weren’t “well-off”, my parents worked hard to give us (my brother, sister and me), a well-rounded upbringing. Recreationally we did all kinds of free things – like go to prospect park on picnics or to the beach at Coney Island. It was great to be able to have some fun for little or no money. I happened to love the park. That’s where my sister and I could be off on our own and explore. On special occasions we might even get to go to other parks (that’s only if we were going with someone who had a car). I remember going to Bear Mountain State Park which is in the Palisades region of NY. We would make a day of it, climbing the mountain and sometimes having foot races (my mother would always win). Jones Beach was not too far out from Brooklyn but only accessible by car. Sometimes we would get a ride and spend the day there. I, for one,  never liked the beach!! I was always afraid of the water and the waves. Even though we would hold on the the ropes provided, I would still be afraid of being swept up by the undertow. Not only that, I hated that feeling when you come out of the water and you are FREEZING!!!! It seems my teeth would chatter for a good 30 minutes. My father, however, love the beach. The beach was without a doubt his favorite place to be.  It was nothing for him to ride his bike to Coney Island from our house (which was about 23 miles) and then spend the entire day in the water. I was always worried about him even though I knew that he was a great swimmer. Not only that, what could I really do if he needed help? – ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! Well there came a time that he did need my help.

The year was 1986. This was just a couple of years after the death of my mother.  It seems my father had taken up with a female friend, Pauline, who lived right across from him in the senior citizens building with her mother. Mind you, my dad was 76 years old then and I’m sure Pauline was probably early 60s.  Anyway, one Sunday afternoon they hopped on the subway and ventured out to Coney Island beach. I was living on my own then, married with two children. Sunday afternoons were pretty much lazy days for us. We generally stayed close to home. The phone ring around 4 in the afternoon and it was my brother sounding extremely disgusted.  It seems that my father and his lady friend, Pauline, were stranded on the beach and they needed me to come and get them. I was instantly alarmed!! I had no idea that he was going to the beach let alone with some women (his girlfriend – WHAT????).  My brother relayed the instructions from my dad. I was to bring him clothes and additionally, go to Pauline’s mother’s house and get clothes for her as well. Apparently, my father was doing his usual swimming for a long time in the ocean while Pauline was supposed to be watching their things.  She evidently got tired of waiting for him to come back and asked some random people who were perched near by to watch their things while she went to the water. Of course you know what happened. After all we are talking about Brooklyn New York!!!! Everybody knows that you don\’t trust anyone you don\’t know – especially in New York. They arrived back to their spot only to find that all their things were gone – wallets, keys, clothes, blanket, towels – EVERYTHING!!!!! I can just imagine my father fussing up a storm. They had to wind up going to the police station to make a phone call (no cell phones and no money to use the public phone booth). I gathered up the children (Yamil age 4  and Maya age 2 at that time), along with my nephews who were 17 and 15, who were visiting, and we all jumped in the car and off we went, first to granddaddy’s house as instructed, then to Pauline’s mother, who met us outside, and then off to Coney Island to get “granddaddy and company\”. The whole way there we were laughing and joking about how they got stranded at the beach. I told them that once we got there they COULD NOT LAUGH!!!! As we approached the boardwalk we could see them afar off just standing there shivering and looking like shriveled up fish. My nephews hurried and got them their towels and clothes and we waited for them to get dressed. When they got into the car everybody stayed quiet for a minute and then Yamil piped up and said, “Granddaddy, what happened?” That’s all it took…… my nephews and I burst out laughing as my father started fussing at Pauline about leaving the stuff. I felt soooo bad for her. One thing for sure is he never took her back to the beach again!!!!!! Those parents, what are we going to do with them? They take care of us and in turn, we take care of them.