Introduction

Introduction

While I was born in 1951, sometimes I feel like I was born in 1914. My father told me so many stories about growing up in Philadelphia, and occasionally even about his family, that I feel some sense of at least one person's life in those years before I was born. While my mother, of course, wanted a child, I'm not sure that my father did. I think there was a part of it all that scared him, so they waited quite a while to have me. I hope I was "a relief" to my father, and I think I worked hard to be a good son. Looking back, especially at those few older pictures I have of my father, I think the very best part of his life was the first half - back when things were simple, he had good friends, and the burdens of adulthood were not yet upon him. Looking back, I feel like the best part of my life was the first half, largely due to my parents. It was a time when life was simple, controllable, and when I was actually organized! I'm sure my father found many good things in his entire life, as do I, but I believe we had this in common - that there is nothing better than growing up in Philadelphia. So, do not find the title of my new blog in any way depressing, my friends, its just a perspective that I've found interesting to investigate.

I'll start by writing about my family. I realize we are nothing special, but as we've learned from millions of pages of memoirs written and published, there can be much to be learned from those who came before us.

As I get past some family stories, this blog may be of interest to anyone who grew up in the Delaware Valley/Philadelphia/Delaware County in the 1950's and 60's, or to anyone married/partnered to one (if you are, there is much you need to understand before the two of you can communicate!).

Please check out my book, Saturday Night at Sarah Joy's. All proceeds go to the Hurricane Sandy NJ Relief Fund. Information is available at: saturdaynightatsarahjoys.blogspot.com.

Thank you!

Thursday, July 19, 2012

His First Half

Probably all you have to do is look at the smile on people's faces to know if this was a happy time of someone's life, so here are a few pictures of my father/parents in his first half life.  These are a few pictures of I have of my father probably in his late teens.  He's the catcher in the first picture


the third from the left, in their hats made out of newspapers (everyone used to know how to do this, by the way - do you?)


the happy boy on the far right


And I always loved this one.  I could never get a straight answer on if the little punks in the background were friends of his or not.  A great Philadelphia picture.


I"m not sure who these people were when I was young, before I was born, but they sure looked like a fun couple.

My mother in Fairmount Park in Philadelphia.  What a cutie!  This was a time when people used to do things like go to parks, and every patch of grass in town was considered to be part of Fairmount Park.  Shortly before my mother passed away, she used to tell me the strangest stories.  She liked to tell me how she would try to keep her hips raised with pillows, after she and my father were "intimate", (before I was born) because she was told it would increase the chance that she'd become pregnant.  She always hid it from my father, because he didn't especially want kids.  (great thing to tell your son, mom!)  She also told me once that her sister Marion thought that she should not marry John Allison, because he was a strange thing.  She had spotted him several times, sitting alone on a bench in the park.  What kind of person does that?  He must be a loner - maybe not a good catch.  Sometimes I wish I could just go back and sit there with him, and ask him what's on his mind. I think he had a complicated life a times - divorced parents, a brother who died young.  I think he was entitled to a secluded place, to take a moment for himself, without getting reported!


My father went into the Army during World War II, into the Army Air Force.  He was stationed in bases across the country.  It changed his life.  It let him see a world which he otherwise would not have seen.  While stationed in California, the troops were constantly being entertained by the top talents of the day.  There were times, in the nursing home, at the end of his life, when he would sing an Al Jolsen tune or two - sung in Al's voice.  I always thought of those songs as replays of live shows he saw.  It was a special time in his life.


The happy Army couple.  The only time my mother ever left Philadelphia was to go to Florida to be with her new husband.  It was a very good thing for her.  I think it gave her a bit of a different perspective on the world, and she often thought about going back some day, just to see how it had changed.  The war was a good thing for both of them.


My father would often get a little slap, a playful one, because, as my mother would say, he would "just get silly."  He had an ability to enjoy life, in any situation, and made friends easily.  I think this aspect of him is captured in many photos that I have of him pre-me.  In this Army photo, its easy to spot him.  While it is a casual picture, he and his partner in crime have their arms around each other and he's wearing his "silly" smile.  I'm glad it was a special time for him.  Just as his training as an airplane mechanic was finishing up and he was to be sent overseas, the war ended, so he got to see much of his country without having to see battle in any way.  He could have been a good mechanic but I doubt he would have ever raised a weapon at anyone.


Post-war, pre-me.  I think the married life was pretty good.  They didn't have much money, but occasionally went to see a boxing match, or get a drink, or get a pizza at a sweet little place called The Raven, under the El on Market Street, somewhere around 60th Street, I believe.  He was on a few bowling teams, obviously was a trendsetter when it came to bowling socks, always looked pretty good, and while we didn't have a lot of bowling trophies around, he did win some nice hardware that would keep your tie in place - gold with crossed bowling pins.  By the time I came along, he stopped these things.  I never saw a bowling ball, never saw him bowl.  Perhaps he couldn't afford it; perhaps it was not a time for such luxuries.  Too bad.


Even many years later, they still had their moments.  Taken on the back "stoop", off the back porch at 228 Roberta Ave, where I grew up, and where they both passed away.


This is Hope Reamon.  I have no idea who she is.  She's not related to us in any way.  I just like the picture.  (stolen from an old theatre album in Michigan)


This blog was brought to you by Ballentine Beer.  They may have been the beer of champions, I don't remember.  Look for the three ring sign and have a cold Ballentine as you're watching the Phillies play in Connie Mack Stadium.


© 2012 John Allison
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