If you are a parent, you understand the summer camp concept. As a kid growing up in Windsor Terrace, I attended two camps; one was a sleepover that was located in upstate New York - we did everything from A to Z. The second camp I attended was a basketball camp, non-stop basketball, also located upstate.
This morning as I saw Taylor off at 8:30, I thought back to my days as a young, naive camper.
As an eight grader at Holy Name, I recall packing a travel bag with my shorts, socks, underwear and of course a few t-shirts. I met up with Jimmy and Frankie Cullen along with Glenn Thomas sometime around six a.m. and we boarded the Manhattan-bound ‘F-Train’ to 42nd street; destination Grand Central Station.
We were 13 and 14 years old.
Sixty minutes later, at Grand Central Station we caught another train that took us two hours outside of the city. But not before we walked from Avenue of the Americas to Vanderbilt avenue - you know how far that is, especially when you are carrying a bag filled with clothes!
(Update)
We all met up on Windsor Place at the 15th St./Prosp Park Subway Station with our US Army dufflebags filled with all of our gear. We could barely carry our bags for we were freshmen in H.S. and those bags were heavy and huge!. I remember that we took the F train to 34th street thinking that we had to go to Penn Station when in fact we had to go to Grand Central Station on the east side to 42nd Street. We were struggling down 34th street with our bags and a NY Daily News driver who had already made his runs saw us and let us hop in to his truck and we were holding on for our lives as we had to stand in the back of an empty truck with the back door open as he sped crosstown to drop us off at Grand Central Station. We were rolling around in the back of that truck. (Thanks GT)
Jack Curren, the long-time boys basketball coach at Molloy high school conducted his overnight camp at Marist college located in Poughkeepsie, New York. Trees, green grass and fresh air, just what everyone needs.
At camp, I was able to meet a lot of kids from different parts of New York, eat tasteless food, drink watered-down lemonade, learn some basketball and stay up late at night.
The best part of camp was the very light supervision when the sun went down, every kid’s dream, especially at camp.
Two years prior to that as a 12 year-old, my landlord at the time, Fanny Hyman thought it would be a good idea to send me to Phythian Camp - a predominately Jewish camp. You know the old, ‘maybe getting Stevie away from the city and into the country will help him’ type stuff. (FYI, it helped)
After the first full day at camp, sitting on my cot right before bedtime, looking around the bunk at the other kids, something didn’t seem right.
Everyone looked different. l came to realize I was the only catholic boy there. Everyone but me had a Yarmulke on top of their head! But at that age, 12, you didn’t see all that religious belief type-stuff. You just had a great time!
This camp was different - we did everything from arts and crafts to fishing. (And the food was good!)
On the last day of camp we had a competition to see which bunk was the best at sports; basketball, track and football. We had played a little whiffle ball during the week but nothing else - I never had a chance to show off my athleticism.
Our bunk cleaned up. We won every contest. The best part of the day was the huge relay race we had at the conclusion of the day. All the campers were ordered to stand and cheer along-side the track while our bunk went against another bunk in a 4-man 880.
Good night Erin! Give us the Gold medal, where’s the podium, get the National anthem cued up!
We smoked ‘em! I’m talking Big Brown at the Derby!
It was a great two weeks at the camp - the other campers were outstanding as were the camp counselors. I recall a boy who I became friends with, his name was Avi. We spent so much time together - I regret not staying in touch with him. (Avi, if you are reading, hit me up with an e-mail)
When Taylor asked my wife and I if she could sign up for camp, I thought it would be like Soccer, Basketball or even Volleyball.
“What kind of camp is it Taylor?” I asked.
“Zoo camp.” she answered.
I gave her the strangest look. Thinking to myself, Zoo camp like elephants, lions, and zebras?
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“Yes”, she said.
Zoo camp?
That’s the first time I had ever heard of a camp being held at a zoo.
Yesterday, after the first day of camp concluded, I picked her up and she told me she had such a great time!
Oh well, I guess camp is camp.
-Steve
Hoops135@hotmail.com
Coach, I love your blog, but come on!!!! Avenue of the Americas???? That is like calling 9th Ave Prospect Park West!!!
On a serious note, I know I went to CYO camp, but I don’t really recall a lot of it. What I do remember is the summer program in PS 107, punchball and track events in the schoolyard, and ping pong and knock-hockey(?) in the basement. I lived right around the corner on 13th between 7th and 8th, and literally spent all day there. I still live in the neighborhood, and pass the school on my way to work everyday, but I don’t see any activity going on in the schoolyard.
Oh, and great song reference!!
Maureen,
You know, after reading the blog I realized my blunder. And you are right about calling 6th avenue A of the A! Good comparison to 9th and PPW.
Wow, so glad I came across this blog! I was born and raised on Seeley Street, which was the dividing line between Holy Name and Immaculate Heart of Mary parishes. We lived on the Holy Name side, so I attended Holy Name School. Because we lived on the outskirts of the parish, I did not hang out with the many names mentioned, but went to school and knew many of them. I graduated from Holy Name in 1976, when it was located on 9th Avenue, not Prospect Park West (or Southwest??)! Loved getting “brown bonnets” from Bonali’s, pickles from the barrel at Jerry’s on 10th Ave. Hated having to cross Prospect Avenue at 3:00 to avoid the 154 kids — they were tough back in the day!! Loved Holy Name School–especially having to “freeze” at the first bell. Kids always exaggerated position they were frozen in until second bell rang!! Teachers: 1st grade:Sister Leonella, 2nd, Miss Martinson (who had us learn about Austrailian animals), 3rd, Mrs. Marley who had us say the rosary after lunch every day and made sure we knew our multiplication facts, 4th , Sister Margeurita, 5th, Miss Cutaneo, 6th, Miss De Santo, 7th, Sister Helen Rooney, 8th, Brother John. Loved when Cecilia B. would get Sister Joan Catherine (6th Social Studies) off track by saying she wanted to become a nun and Sister would go on and on about great it was. She would also stop and have the class pray whenever a siren was heard, which came back to me in the horrible days following 9-11. Sister Helen Alma, math teacher would sit on the smallest kid in the class to demonstrate improper fractions! Sister Austin ( I think) was in charge of the candy room. Being candy monitor was always one of my favorite jobs! Bougtht a house on Seeley Street five doors down from my childhood home, but moved upstate in December 2005 to Cooperstown. Would love to hear from old friends and classmates. Though it is beautiful up here, there truly is no place like Brooklyn, and no people as friendly and down to earth as true New Yorkers!
Coach,
the furthest we got to camp was the fire hydrant (lake) 154 schoolyard (great outdoors) and “Fat Nicks” deli (Commisary)
and when we fought with the Saints (Fireworks)
Tony F,
You’re a funny guy…you know, the way you tell the story.
Steve,
I remember that time we all went to Jack Curran’s Basketball Camp. The camp was held up at Marist College in Poughkeepsie, NY. We all met up on Windsor Place at the 15th St./Prosp Park Subway Station with our US Army dufflebags filled with all of our gear. We could barely carry our bags for we were freshmen in H.S. and those bags were heavy and huge!. I remember that we took the F train to 34th street thinking that we had to go to Penn Station when in fact we had to go to Grand Central Station on the east side to 42nd Street. We were struggling down 34th street with our bags and a NY Daily News driver who had already made his runs saw us and let us hop in to his truck and we were holding on for our lives as we had to stand in the back of an empty truck with the back door open as he sped crosstown to drop us off at Grand Central Station. We were rolling around in the back of that truck. That guy was cool for helping us that day!
GT,
Thanks…My memory is slipping. (See the revision)
Coach what do you mean funny? Do I amuse you like HaHa funny?
I’m telling the truth. We didn’t have two nickles to rub together.
We bought Blem sneakers from the Converse factory. no one had money. We didn’t even know how poor we were because we were so used to living like we did.
It was a blue collar neighborhood
Just kidding Coach(about the Funny Part)
Does anyone remember Mr Gutter’s shoe store? My mom used to take me down there to get a pair of Keds. Mr. Gutter had a limp and when he would go in the back to get you a pair of sneakers there was a bottle and a shot glass on the back table in the back room.I guess he would take a swig or two. Some days even when your sneakers did not fit and you wanted to go up a size he would insist that the sneakers that you had originally tried on fit just righ for he was almost irritable and it seemed that he did not want to go in the back and work for the sale. lol.
GT,
Don’t forget the cop’s hat he kept on the table along with that booze…
Tony F,
No Tony, you know, how you tell the story, it’s funny. (C’mon Tony you got it all wrong…
I see we enjoy the same films.
You are right, I didn’t have jack-squat either. But we had a place to sleep, food on the table and great friends!
YOU SAID IT COACH. THAT HAT WAS HIS SONS HAT. HE DIDN’T DRINK THAT WAS SET UP TO MAKE PEOPLE THIK HE WAS EXPECTING SOMEONE ANY MINUTE. HE WAS PARANOID
BECAUSE HE WAS HELD UP ONCE AND BEATEN.
HE WAS REALLY A NICE OLD MAN
P.S.107 Vacation day camp ,softball games seemed to be going on all day long. Ping-pong, knock-hockey , making key chains out of that braided plastic string. Rainy days they showed movies or put on a “talent show”. On the way out they gave you a warm can of soda which you could only open when you were out of the building. There was always something to do and it seemed like there were always a million kids there. Mr.Del and Mr Lesnever were the camp counselor’s and made sure everyone played nice!
Lineman,
I recall those days down 154’s…
I remember there was a cool show at the end on stage.