Life in the South Bronx in the 30s

Margie and I walked a little further than usual today, and I noted she's building strength and endurance. Once we got to a coffee shop and settled in, I asked her to tell me more about her father. 

“Oh, he was a wonderful guy. Gentle, funny, kind of laid back and very quiet. He was a taxi driver. My mother was always yelling at him. She wanted him to have more ambition. She wanted status. We lived in a one-bedroom apartment in the South Bronx. My brother slept on a cot in my parents’ room. My sister and I slept on a fold-out couch in the living room, and money was always a problem. When my mother started yelling, my dad would wink at me and say, ‘Let’s go for a walk.’ I’d be out the door before he could count to two.”

Where did you go?

“We’d walk along Prospect Avenue, looking in the windows of all the shops. I would think: When I grow up, I’ll have a dress like that; when I grow up, I’ll have shoes like those. We’d pass a delicatessen or a bakery and my mouth would water, but I never asked for anything. I knew he didn’t have any money in his pockets. My mother kept every penny he brought home. 

“Sometimes we came to a park and we’d sit together on a bench and just watch people pass by, or look up at the sky. I was like him, and we both knew it. We liked quiet. We just sat there, not saying anything, and I was as happy as anything.” After a pause, she added matter-of-factly, “They’re all dead now.”

I was wearing the scarf Margie made for me, and she admired it. I said, “You made this for me, Margie.” 

“I don’t remember a thing about it,” she said, laughing, “are you sure?” I said yes, I’m sure. “Well I couldn’t do that now. My brain is unreliable.” 

I told her it’s quite reliable when it comes to her childhood, but she brushed me off.

Curious about the Bronx in Margie’s youth, I found online a sweet little project by a NYU student according to whom, “The Bronx has a history of leftist working class politics rooted in Jewish socialist ideals and labor activism.” That’s Margie’s background, and that’s still who she is. (Extra: the two of us in the elevator, going out for a walk.)