This past Saturday morning I walked past the Loews movie house on 68th and Broadway and saw, stationed outside, a NYC police car with sirens flashing, and standing in front of it, with his back to the car and with a holstered gun, a cop, his eye on the movie house … which was, I then realized, showing The Dark Knight.
All our fashions, in those days, were imported from America. In the summer of 1956, when I was eleven, the hot items were fluorescent nylon socks in lime green or neon pink that shone in the dark as we strolled up and down the beachfront at night. These beachfront strolls were a local version of what my Yiddish-speaking parents called shpatzieren, the pre-WWII Mittel-European slow promenading up and down the main street on a Saturday or Sunday summer afternoon, men in white suits walking arm-in-arm with their parasol-carrying wives, the men doffing their hats to the opposing women on someone else’s arm, the women smiling back in response. Shop on Main Street.