A Slice of Life: Family Vacation

Ever since I wrote about Aunt Betty, I've felt nostalgic for the vacations my family spent with her family in Ocean City, Maryland. They started around 1974 and went until about 1983...after that, we grew up and grew apart.

We looked forward to Ocean City vacations all year. Usually, we'd go for a week in August. My parents would split the cost of renting a unit with my aunt and uncle. The units were big enough to hold us all comfortably: my parents, me, my brother, my aunt, uncle and two cousins. We never stayed in the same place twice...that was part of the fun.

Here are my parents with my aunt and uncle.


I love everything about the ocean: the sight, the smell and the sound of the surf. On Sunday morning and every morning afterward that I could manage it, I would get up just before sunrise to go down to the beach and watch the sun come up. Most of the time I went alone because I couldn't persuade anyone else that the sight was worth it.


There was always something to do, rain or shine, day or night. On a cloudy, cooler day, we'd walk along the beach and collect shells or go down to the arcade on the boardwalk.

On sunny, hot days, look out! We'd be in the water, body surfing or riding the waves on rented rafts. These pictures are of first me and then my brother riding a raft.



We didn't need TV at all. In the evening, there was lots of ways to entertain ourselves:







Going to the boardwalk at night was always fun. There were two fantastic artists there. One sculpted in sand and I know his artwork has been on the internet. The other worked in chalk crawings. Both artists' work was religious and beautiful.

Other things we'd do on the boardwalk: shop, visit the arcades and play games, and go to the amusement parks. Those were always a lot of fun! I enjoyed taking my young cousin on the scariest rides or in the haunted houses. She loved going with us!

Our most favorite night time activity, though, was a big roundof UNO. The more of us that played, the more fun it was and we had some side-splitting times with the game!


Ah, those were the days!

He Did Hold Me!

I thought I had all the pictures of me as a baby and toddler but then realized my mom had given me an album full of pix. I looked and sure enough, there are tons of pictures from times I don't remember! :D One of the best surprises was pictures of me with my grandfather--and he's actually holding me!

Obviously, these pictures were all taken the same day as the ones I posted earlier. Here is my dad with my grandparents and me.

I was christened in April and my godparents were my Aunt Joyce and Uncle John, my mother's brother and sister-in-law. Here I am with my grandparents.

My dad holds me, flanked by my Aunt Joyce and Uncle John.

My parents are quite a handsome young couple aren't they?

Small Memories

The very first memory I have is going into the kitchen to get a bottle of milk from my mom, returning to the living room and flopping on the couch to watch cartoons...always the TV, right? And this would have been back to around 1956 or 1957!

I also remember a dog named Sweetie who wasn't sweet at all. Whenever I would run, she would chase and snap at me. She had to go when she attacked my knees and bit me so hard they bled.

I remember my grandparents would come and pick me up to take me berry picking with them. I loved it! Blackberry bushes weren't as much fun, if I remember correctly--the branches could scratch you. Grandma used to take me to the grocery store with her on Saturdays and there I could pick out a Little Golden Book to bring back to her house. All the books were shared with my cousins and I got over that minor annoyance by telling myself that I was the one that got to pick them out.

I was luckier than most kids nowadays because families tended to live within close proximity of each other. Until I was 10, my cousins were also close playmates. In this picture, my mom holds my brother Pete. My arm is around my cousin Robert and that's my cousin Anne to our right.



When I was 5, I went to kindergarten. Our bus driver was a Ketcham, a distant relation of mine through my grandmother's family. Everyone knew everyone else back then. I could go to the corner deli by myself as a very little girl and buy red licorice whips with money my parents gave me.

This is my kindergarten picture. My hair used to be a shade of auburn!



This handsome young man is my very first fiance, Glen. Everyone thought we were so adorable saying we were going to get married when we grew up. We would sit together on the bus and it wasn't always so great. Once Glen stepped into a pile of dog poo and it didn't all quite come off his shoe. He was pretty stinky and I think I would have sat somewhere else except that we were engaged and I felt obliged to stick by hi. Pee-yoo! We would visit each other for play dates and here we are, graduating from kindergarten!



I've often wondered what happened to Glen and if he is happily married now. Before second grade, my parents bought a house in Brentwood and we moved from Islip. I remember how my grandmother cried and my mom tried to reassure her we'd just be 10 minutes away. I think Grandma enjoyed the fact that we could walk back and forth to visit. This picture was taken while I was in first grade but I'm not sure if I was still going to Islip or if we'd already moved to Brentwood.


This picture was taken in third or fourth grade. My hair had already darkened to brown and I'm now totally brunette except for the gray.

Little Me

So now I finally make my appearance on December 19, 1954. I was two weeks late which meant that Mom brought me home around Christmas. She told me later it was very busy and she had trouble getting my grandmother to help. Grandma was very busy with all the Christmas preparations, Mom complained, and there was baby me crying and crying. Oh dear. At least I'm not crying in this picture.


My Grandma was the most important person in my life other than my parents. I loved going to see her and was very attached to her.


Here is my mom and me...


and my dad and me. My parents look so young, hardly more than kids themselves! Things were different in the 1950s, though, and they were considered mature adults at 24 and 25.


Here I am again with my grandparents. Although I remember my Grandma hugging and kissing me, I don't remember my Grandfather ever showing any affection. He was very cold and aloof and pretty sick by the time I developed any memories of him.

I was fascinated with our Christmas tree. I believe this picture was taken in 1956, when I was around 2 years old. I loved all the pretty lights.

In 1956, my parents were struggling and it was hard for them to make ends meet. My father was and is a proud man and never liked to ask for help from family or a handout. That year, my mother told me they couldn't afford to get me any presents but that she'd saved up all these Campbell's soup labels so that she could get me a doll. She said that I looked so sad that year and they felt guilty. I don't know...I think I look pretty happy in this picture. I think Mom's guilt may have been getting the better of her.

1957 was a much better year in terms of Christmas. I loved my rocking horse and spent hours rocking back and forth.


I got another gift earlier that year, one that I think I was not so pleased with at first: a baby brother, Peter Jr. I remember going to see my parents at the hospital after my brother was born. I wasn't allowed inside so my grandparents stood with me on the lawn while Mom and Dad appeared in the window with baby Pete. I don't think I was very impressed at first.



Later, though, he became more interesting and I liked him a whole lot better. The quality of this picture is terrible, I know, but I wanted to show the contrast of feelings I had for my brother when we were just babies.

My Parents

This is my mom in her early 20s. She was born in 1930, the youngest of 6 children. My grandmother's friend once told me that my mom was so small, "she could fit right into the palm of my hand." Mom's older sister was born deaf (in 1928) and it turns out, Mom was born hearing impaired. She remembers hearing music and dancing in front of the radio. After a bout with an illness that caused a high fever, Mom couldn't hear anymore.

The youngest brother Gil (born in 1926) was their playmate and acted as the family interpreter. I think they used home signs with their brother. When they were older, my aunt and mother were sent to Lexington School for the Deaf in New York City.

At that time, the prevailing philosophy at Lexington was oral education only--no signing! The teachers and administrators told my grandparents if they used sign language it would inhibit their girls from learning to speak. My mom and aunt learned that there was something "wrong" with sign language--they learned but they had to keep their knowledge private. They'd sign in the bathroom or in other secret places. They developed negative feelings toward it thanks to these hearing idiots in charge of education for the deaf.

Communication was extremely frustrating for them both. At best, a skilled lipreader will pick up only 70% of the message. There are too many words and phrases that look alike on the lips. Mom grew sick of saying "ball ball ball" for hours and hours on end. She felt like she wasn't learning anything and so she dropped out of school when she was 16.

She's basically self taught. She developed a love for reading and so her skills developed that way.

My grandparents and the four brothers never learned to sign fluently. My Uncle John, my godfather, (born in 1922) tried to learn in the early 1980s but by then it was too difficult to pick up.




My dad had a totally different experience. He was born to my Irish immigrant grandparents in 1929, in either Harlem or the Bronx. We always thought he was #5 in a family of 6 but it turns out that there was another child who died. I'm not sure if this child was older or younger than my father.

Coincidentally (or not), the birth order in my father's family was 2 girls followed by 4 boys. In Mom's it was the other way around.

My father was very close to my Uncle Thomas. They were the closest in age and so Tommy acted as the family interpreter. The difference here is that the whole family used home signs to communicate with Dad. There was no shame amongst them and no one to tell them that my dad would never learn to speak.

We don't know why my dad is deaf. He thought it was because he had botched surgery as a child and that the surgeon cut into his neck and damaged a nerve. That's not right but what is the whole story? Not even the hearing members of the family seem to know.

My dad went to the state school for the deaf in upstate New York. They used sign language there and so he developed language early on. He learned to play the French horn! He participated in the school's marching band.

Dad's growing up years were rough. He won't talk about it. I know that his family was poor and that there are a lot of drinkers. Was his upbringing violent? Were there gangsters in his neighborhood? I can only guess. To this day he doesn't talk about it.



My parents met at a group date. They'd brought other dates to go out and when the evening was over, my dad escorted my mom to the train station. They hit it off and he asked her out. My mom thought my dad was so very handsome (and he was).

There were just a couple of stumbling blocks. Although my mom's family weren't especially well off my grandmother had a "pedigree" as long as your arm. It was sort of intimidating. The other bigger issue was of religion. My dad's family was Catholic and my mom's Presbyterian. Luckily my dad wasn't so attached to Catholicism and willingly gave it up to marry my mom.

Eventually any problems sorted themselves out and my parents got married in May 1951.