Ah, Summer! (Part 5)
Summer returned with a vengeance this week, perhaps in anticipation of Hurricane Earl's scene-grabbing cameo (due, mercifully, to miss wide of its mark.) The crowds flock to a different side of the #7 tracks; the Mets are pretty much out of post-season contention, so now it's time to attend the U.S. Open tennis matches.
The tennis crowds deepen my sense of nostalgia each time I pass byu on my way to the nursing home. The entire subway station with its interconnecting ramps and approaches to the grounds were built for the 1964-65 World's Fair. From where I sat on the #7 I could see where Tomorrowland and the General Motors Pavillion and perhaps a dozen other heavy-hitting manufacturing companies of the era had constructed gleaming palaces of reinforced concrete, strong enough to pull thousands of people a day through mechanized walkways and rides all to the tune of piped-in music and public affairs presentations.
It was all quite optimistic and perhaps naive. The entire continent of Africa was relegated to one exhibit the size and general tone of a sideshow.
In my mind's eye I could see the Kodak snapshots of various trips made with family and friends. Aunt Delilah and Aunt Nanny both made pilgrimages to New York just as their mother had in 1939 to visit her sister, our great-Aunt Tine.
The 64-65 World's Fair was probably Mommyland's high-water mark; it was in Queens, a stone's throw from the house which was still new; all of her brothers and sisters as well as three of my four grandparents were still living. Somewhere there is a picture of Mom standing where Aunt Tine might have stood in 1939, in front of the Unisphere, proud as a teapot.
The tennis crowds deepen my sense of nostalgia each time I pass byu on my way to the nursing home. The entire subway station with its interconnecting ramps and approaches to the grounds were built for the 1964-65 World's Fair. From where I sat on the #7 I could see where Tomorrowland and the General Motors Pavillion and perhaps a dozen other heavy-hitting manufacturing companies of the era had constructed gleaming palaces of reinforced concrete, strong enough to pull thousands of people a day through mechanized walkways and rides all to the tune of piped-in music and public affairs presentations.
It was all quite optimistic and perhaps naive. The entire continent of Africa was relegated to one exhibit the size and general tone of a sideshow.
In my mind's eye I could see the Kodak snapshots of various trips made with family and friends. Aunt Delilah and Aunt Nanny both made pilgrimages to New York just as their mother had in 1939 to visit her sister, our great-Aunt Tine.
The 64-65 World's Fair was probably Mommyland's high-water mark; it was in Queens, a stone's throw from the house which was still new; all of her brothers and sisters as well as three of my four grandparents were still living. Somewhere there is a picture of Mom standing where Aunt Tine might have stood in 1939, in front of the Unisphere, proud as a teapot.