History Unleashed, By, Judy Hester. My grandparents lived on 105 Neptune Avenue in the Brighton Beach area of Brooklyn. Turning the clock back would take me to a time when our family lived within short distances from each other. I always took for granted, when I was too young to know better, that the family net of protection would always be there; uncles, aunts and cousins galore.
My dad visited his beloved parents quite often, every week, taking the BMT train pass our Sheepshead Bay station to the Coney Island exit and walking to their house. One year after they died, he found himself once again going to visit them, getting off at the station near their home and suddenly stopped, realizing that they were gone. That shook him up, knowing how badly he wanted them to still be alive. You can read more in aplacecalledbrooklyn.com Chapter 24 and learm more about "Coney Island Day Trip" you can also watch a video about Coney Island when you log in on the webpage.
They spoke yiddish, which was their native tongue. My grandfather (zeydeh) was from Belarus, Russia, where he escaped the pogroms. My grandmother (bubbeh) was from Makover, Poland. I remember them speaking yiddish to each other. He was always reading the Forvitz, a yiddish newspaper. They were orthodox jews and did not carry money, ride in a car or write on the Sabbath. I remember them only with kind thoughts and sweet memories.
As a kid, I would take a bus to Coney Island, spend all of my money at Nathans, Steeplechase Park, Bat-a-way, Carousels, and riding the Thunderbolt roller coaster. Having no money left, I would walk to my grandparents’ house, where my Grandma Annie would go into her tiny kitchen which always had wonderful aromas, and come out with an array of food for me to snack on. I especially loved the mandel bread (brot) that she made. She would offer some Dr. Browns’ celery soda. “No thanks grandma, I don’t like it.” She answered, “Just try some, my Michael. You will like it.” “No really Grandma,” I replied,
putting my hand over the glass that she placed on the table. Undeterred, she started pouring the celery soda on my hand! We both laughed!
When Grandpa Sam passed away, my Grandma Annie was terribly lonely. She died six months later. I will always believe of loneliness and a broken heart.
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