Party Animals: Reflections of a Restaurant Kid
We partied hard with our siblings, cousins, and perhaps one or two classmates when celebrating birthdays. Unlike today’s raves with portable petting zoos, bouncy houses, or pool parties at the Y, we rocked on with pogo sticks, hula hoops, and a few raucous rounds of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. There was always a gigantic piñata at our parties because Phillipe, who worked in our restaurant, would bring them back from Mexico. These piñatas were shaped like a person and as big as a kid. My little cousin Maria was petrified of them.
The parties at Aunt Gloria’s (Aunt Glody to me) were always celebrated in the basement. About ten of us sat at a long table, probably a few folding tables strung together, covered with a paper tablecloth. We wore the pointy birthday hats and ate homemade cake right there next to the water boiler. After a round or two of pin-the-tale-on-the donkey, my older cousin Janie would break out the “giant claw” and chase us around. I loved playing Giant Claw, which was just her hand, but scary, nonetheless.
I hated the eyelid stunt cousin Jackie, and Maria (for her, possibly payback for the piñatas) loved to pull. They’d fold their eyelids up and turn around to face me. It freaked me out every time. Weather permitting, the party would head out to the backyard. Maria was the youngest and easiest to fool. We used to blindfold her and direct her to step in the dog doo. Until she stepped in it, Maria thought she was playing a different game, poor thing. That prank never got old. What is wrong with me? To this day, it still cracks me up. No one got punished; no one felt bullied. Just another day of fun and games at Aunt Glody’s.
Amusement parks were big in the late 50s and 60s. Most amusement parks were local and small, relative to the corporate sprawl of Six Flags. White City (named after the Chicago World’s Fair) was about 10 miles from home. So much fun so close to home, what a blast. I will never forget when my mother grabbed a friend and her kids, piled us into the station wagon, and headed for White City. We started to horse around in the car and were admonished several times until my mother issued the classic “If you don’t settle down, I’ll turn around, and we’ll go home!” We didn’t settle down, and much to our chagrin, my mother turned the car around, and we went home. That was a first; I was stunned. When we got home, we made the best of the situation and hung out in the mulberry tree overlooking Rt. 9 and the white dome of Jordan Marsh. Oh, well.
In the summer of 1964, my mother took us to the New York World’s Fair. For many, a World’s Fair was a trip of a lifetime, entertaining as well as educational. For us, it turned out to be all about the food. We stayed about three days, and every one of them we gorged on Belgium waffles piled high with strawberries and whipped cream. One day we lost the car in the parking lot, which was massive. Poor Mom, she was harried and didn’t write down its location. We gazed over the heat radiating and rolling over the cars like sailors lost at sea. Then we ran for it. “Here it is!” “Here it is!” “No, here it is!” “I found it, I found it, it’s over here!” the cries came from every corner and row. Mom was scrambling like a tight end at the ten-yard line, but none of the cars were ours. Finally, she decided to hire a cab to drive us around. We thought that was just grand. And that’s what I remember about the New York World’s Fair. Edifying!
I think it’s fair to say that New Year’s Eve is a global celebration. A big deal. Champagne bottles pop, Fireworks boom, and strangers kiss. Except for the fireworks and perhaps the strangers’ smooch — but I doubt it, the party roared at the restaurant. Noisemakers and hats were handed out. The complimentary champagne flowed. One year there weren’t enough noisemakers for us kids. We were crestfallen. Whaaa, whaaa, how will we ring in the new year? My mother suggested we bang on the pots and clang the covers together. Big mistake. We demolished her prized Revere Ware. Not dinged and dented, we rendered it useless. Boy, did we know how to party. Happy New Year, Mom!
