88h-EmilyAnn’s Memoir-A Stitch in Time-1958-The Fender Bender

Introduction

Screen shots from YouTube video on the MyFootage.com channel of a family out for a ride in their 1956 car. The channel describes the car as a Chevy but a commenter states it’s a 1956 Ford.

One enduring image of summertime in the 1950s that can be seen in movies, TV commercials, TV shows and print advertisements is that of a family going out for a drive in a snazzy car with the windows opened and the breeze coming in.  The destination seems unimportant.  What counted was being seen and being admired.  Ownership of an attractive, well-kept car marked the family as having arrived in the ranks of the middle class. 

Screen shot from a 1950s Chrysler commercial (See Resources for link).  Note how the child is riding in the front seat of the convertible.  There are no safety restraints for either mother or daughter.

In this posting we will see how the popular culture had little to no awareness of an important aspect of driving: that there must be safety systems within the vehicle to prevent or lessen injuries to passengers caused by an accident.

Relationship Notes

Frank Jesse Terry* was the son of Al and Blanche (nee Flashenberg) Terry*.  He married Emily Leatrice Serrapede in 1950.  By 1958 Emily Leatrice was a full-time housewife and the family lived on Frank’s salary.  The burden of homeownership strained the family finances causing recurring disagreements between Emily and Frank. 

One Sunday after Emily objected to Frank’s criticisms of her use of a charge account, he decided to take EmilyAnn out with him for drive along Shore Road.  He thought they both needed a change of scenery.

Blanche and Al Terry were my paternal grandparents.

Josie and Sam Serrapede were my maternal grandparents.

Mrs. Robertazzi and Mrs. A.. were widows who lived in the row where our house was.  Because of their good moral character and discretion, they became trusted friends to Emily Leatrice.  Neither woman was given to gossiping.

EmilyAnn’s Memoir “A Stitch in Time”:  The Fender Bender

The worst disagreements between my parents happened during the weekends.  When they started early on a Saturday I had a sure way to get away from the house when the weather was nice.  I was almost 5 years old and felt very proud of the way I got the attention of my friends and playmates.

I sat on the stoop with a pad of and a box of coloring pencils.  When my friends came to see what I was so engrossed in I’d ask them to draw me a picture.  They were happy to do so.  I’d ask if we could continue drawing and coloring on their stoop or at their house.  When they said yes, I opened the door to call Mom or Dad and ask if I could go to Mary Joan or Joanne’s house.  Since Mom and Dad approved of these friends the answer was always yes. 

When my friends were not around I sought out Mrs. Robertazzi or Mrs. A. if they were sweeping their stoop or working in their front gardens.  Just talking to another adult away from our stoop took my mind off the unsettled feeling that was becoming very familiar to me whenever my parents had a disagreement.   

On Sundays my friends were not available for play.  The entire day was spent in the company of family.  Some families went to church early, others spent time over a leisurely breakfast.  Fathers read the newspapers while their children pored over the comics or watched TV.  The women were busy cooking the Sunday afternoon feast that included some form of pasta and homemade tomato sauce.  Sundays were the days for food, family, and long conversations for the adults, naptimes for the babies and board games for the pre-teens.  It was a day when a family either received visitors or paid a visit to their parents, cousins, or other relatives. 

Except for bouts of illness, we always visited my Grandparents on Sundays.  Both my paternal and maternal grandparents loaded us up with enough leftovers for dinner on Monday and Tuesday. Starting on Wednesday we went back to Mom’s meal plan which consisted of pan fried meats or any kind of meat that could be broiled or roasted in the oven along with some potatoes.  Otherwise we had hamburgers, hot dogs or dishes like Chicken a la Can Can or Tuna Crunch.  To these meals were added an iceberg lettuce salad with onions and tomatoes and dressed with whatever salad dressing she bought on sale that week.

My parents worked out a way to ensure that my maternal and paternal grandparents had equal chances of seeing us.  The approach my parents took was to alternate our visits for the Sunday afternoon meal.  It was possible to see both sets of grandparents on the same Sunday.   One week we had dinner with Grandpa Al and Grandma Blanche Terry.  After that we visited Grandma Josie and Grandpa Sam Serrapede  for coffee and dessert.  The next weekend we reversed the settings by going to Grandma Josie’s for dinner and then visiting Grandma Blanche’s for dessert. 

The visits to my Grandparents took place as scheduled every week, even when my parents had a disagreement over breakfast.  Right before Dad and I left for that drive to Shore Road, I heard Mom say something she would repeat many times after this:  

“Everything for this house and nothing for me!”

88g-EmilyAnn’s Memoir-A Stitch in Time-Pigeon Man, 1958

Introduction

The catalyst for EmilyAnn’s change of heart about going to school started with the newly found object of her wonder and fascination.  It was a sight she viewed from her bedroom window early each morning and evening.  From watching the activities of Pigeon Man and his flock of pigeons she started asking many questions.  Frank, EmilyAnn’s Dad, answered those questions in a way that showed why it was important to go to school.

Relationship notes

Frank Jesse Terry was born in 1927 to Al and Blanche (nee Flashenberg) Terry*.  He was the eldest of four children and always enjoyed helping his mother around the house with cooking and looking after his younger siblings.  Frank was a very organized, methodical thinker and approached the management of his personal affairs just as he would his responsibilities at work.  He was very detail oriented and conscientious in all matters of personal responsibility whether it was fulfilling a promise or paying his bills on time.  He would have been an excellent school teacher as he enjoyed sharing what he knew with others and encouraged them in their interests.  

*Terry was the anglicized version of the family surname which my family used for professional purposes.

Family story:  Pigeon Man

by EmilyAnn Frances May

My bedroom was located at the back of the house.  It had two windows.  One was directly opposite the same type of bedroom in Mrs. Anzalone’s house next door.  The view that window afforded was not very interesting as she k rarely drew the gauzy curtains apart.  Aside from that the rest of the view consisted of the back stoops of our house and Mrs. Anzalone’s house along with the back entrance to the basement of each house.

The window near my bed overlooked the community driveway that ran in the back of the row houses.  Running parallel to the strip of the drive way were the tiny garages built for the cars of another era.  Even at 4 1/2 I knew the cars of the earlier decades were small in comparison to the cars Dad liked.  I loved the look of our car after Dad had washed and waxed it so that the pink and grey Chevy Bel Air shined in the sunlight. 

Between the garages were small patches of earth meant to serve as a garden, perhaps to grow vegetables.  They were very small and some neighbors planted ground cover, put up a small gate to keep children out and for the most part did little else with the patch.  Our neighbors Mrs. Anzalone and Mrs. Robertazzi were the only ones to cultivate rosebushes that added fragrance and color to the otherwise grey driveway.  Mrs. Robertazzi was of a competitive nature and to prove herself she out-did Mrs. Anzalone by having a fig tree.  A small bowl full of the fruit was given to Mom each summer when I was small.  I never took to figs except when they were inside of cookies like Fig Newtons. 

The set-up of the garages and community drive way on 78th Street, around the block from our location on 79th Street, followed the exact same lines.  It was like looking into a mirror.  I found the sight of the back of the 78th Street row houses the perfect means to forget my anxiousness during the middle of the night.  I started pulling the shade up after my parents put me to bed.  I’d sit up, lean on the bedstead and watch as the scenes in the kitchens and bedrooms.  Of course, I did not look at the sight steadily but anytime I woke up or felt restless I’d look out the window.  I got to know which family had dinner very late, about 8 p.m. when I was in bed already.  Another family had a TV in the back bedroom above their kitchen.  That one room remained lit some evenings long after the other windows in the kitchens and other back bedrooms had been turned off.

It was during a Spring morning that carried hints of Summer weather that I heard the cooing of the kept in a coop atop a house on 78th Street.  I got up to find streaks of yellow, pink and orange working their way through the parting clouds of night.  I looked across to the 78th Street Row House directly across from ours and there it was!  The origin of the cooing sound:  a small, neatly built bright white pigeon coop.  Why it was the most amazing thing I’d seen.  A house for birds on top of a house for people.  I’d been aware of the cooing of pigeons nearby but never focused on where it came from.