Jewish vacationers flocked to these places in droves, and on a Sunday night waits of an hour before seating were expected and endured. "I could've sworn it was heaven. Friday became Saturday in such rapid succession that we were dizzy.

You’re going to be wearing the night gown all day anyways.

THE HOTELS

Almost certainly engineered by dotting parents, sitting beside you is a pretty young girl, festooned in print sun dress and strap sandals. Next time you are looking for the New York City experience, go to The Mountains. I digress, but being a mother’s helper was a popular job for young teen girls and the moms at the colony. By two dozen!" I mean, if you're going to tango with the demon cholesterol, at the very least you want to dance with Astaire. Your transactions are secure.

Who, but an eleven year old could discover rapture shoveling trash? in his chinos and flannel shirts, even in the height of July¹s heat. The vendors usually made their rounds mid-week, which always puzzled me a little. We laughed and kidded and plotted and planned, and we swore we'd know one another forever. The father says.

For me it was joy! No matter where, what or when, it was universal in the mystery and romance we attached to the place.

Old Doc Bloom had made the house call to the colony and fixed you with a foul smelling ointment and a bandage that your mom needed to change twice each day. I think I earned $12 a week. There was a lot of screaming; a lot of running around. Your counselor is "point man," moving fearlessly on. Anyway, 16, 19, who really cared?You met the guys in the colony parking lot. For one mysterious reason or another, Camp Directors, and their surrogates the counselors were hell bent on convincing our parents that we were all budding Picassos and Michaelangelos.

The comedians never faced the challenge of having a tough act to follow. Hunkered down with friends in a smoky room, around a round felt topped table, ingesting malteds and egg creams and sandwiches, I tossed clay chips into the pot, until we adjourned for the night, or morning, the daylight creeping against the darkness in the eastern sky. Upon the return, it appears they were determined to pull a week's measure of pleasure from those few fleeting weekend hours. We loved seeing our Dad and playing with him. It is likely that each summer small forests were leveled to fulfill the order of obligatory Popsicle sticks. Please help me answer this.

Or did they? We built forts and encampments, and plodded circuitous routes from one spot to another, always careful to both cover and mark the trail, least we either be captured, or, worse, lost. On Saturday nights the parents dressed a little better than usual, and after dinner they migrated towards the casino where they preformed God only knew kinds of pagan rituals that were guarded like holy state secrets from us, the kinder. Then, underneath, worthy of inclusion in any collection of classic understatements, the clever pun, "What foods these morsels be." And oftentimes, standing alone on the mound, peering in and waiting for my catcher to flash a signal, I would think of Martin and those sweet, lost summer nights when he'd taken the time to pass me his legacy, such as it was. It was called ?Coffehouse.? After a while his breathing settled into a quiet cadence, his chest moving so slightly he might be taken for dead.

The quality survived the move, but, alas, gone are the pinball machines, and the rickety old tables and chairs, and the muddy, tight parking lot.

I began experimenting with these pitches, to become both exhilarated and bewildered when the ball commenced breaking and arching, moving to some mysterious heretofore-unknown music that I was suddenly able to master by the simple placement of my fingers on the horsehide. First- and second-generation Jewish-American families were especially likely to rent such houses. And in August they were throwing a big thing outside of Monticello, with a lot of groups-The Who, Santana, Hendrix--but no way your parents would let you go, at 12. Your first sighting of those boxes of faded blue cardboard elicited anger, then denial, and then sadness.

We did other dives as well-jackknifes and back-flips and half gainers.

He played a keen game of gin rummy, and casino, which he taught to my brother and me.

[citation needed]. Then, after exhausting your repertoire of what had transpired in your world all weekend, and what you were anticipating for the week ahead, you began getting a little fidgety. You adjourned to a table, pausing at the pickle stand—a forerunner of the ubiquitous salad bar.

I would sit with him and go through the book each day.

may not be better, but it sure is different.

(1) I remember babysitting those last weeks of summer, after his demise, and being afraid to sit by myself in the night, retreating inside the Goldstein bungalow. Who is she? Grandma Esther put her foot down.

She might say that she was going to tell Dad when he came up. That accomplished, the "caught" man was escorted to jail, where he waited, with the other unfortunates of his team, to either be "rescued" or until the entire team was jailed. And often we would bet which dad would be up first!

"Lefty's" immortal "What Foods These Morsels Be..." What foods, indeed! A ranch bungalow is a bungalow organized so that bedrooms are on one side and "public" areas (kitchen, living/dining/family rooms) are on the other side.

We no longer stayed in their bungalow colony, which was located down the road across from Kauneonga Lake. Generally, we did what any normal city kid would with a two-month reprieve to run wild and free in the summer. For the dads, the summers brought a very different and somewhat odd pattern to their lives. Whitey outlived his wife and two children, and died at age 94, in February 1983, 9 months to the day before the birth of my first child.

It is beautiful. When we returned to the bungalow colony in late June we discovered a fat black hose at the pool?s edge that fed water to the brim of the pool?s edge. In a separate usage, the dak bungalows formerly used by the British mail service have been adapted for use as centers of local government or as rural hostels.

"Played third base myself," he said."Uh-huh.

The weekdays were full-with day camp and ball games and swimming and horseplay, and the moms had meals to prepare, and washes to do, and, more essentially, mah-jongg and canasta to play. During the week our bungalow colony was ruled by women. The term ultimate bungalow is commonly used to describe a very large and detailed Craftsman-style house in the United States.

one might say, ?after opening for Dean Martin, Vic Damone and Perry Como?.finally, here I find myself, at the pinnacle of my career--- Goldenberg?s Paradise Cottages?.? Even so, it doesn’t make the news, because nobody outside of the five boroughs wants to live in a bungalow.

On alternate Friday evenings we presented a musical act and a comic, not very much different from what we?d grown to know as children in the Catksills. We were the Yiddishe precursors of the inner city graffiti masters, replete with our paint cans and markers and crayons and charcoal.



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