LONG AGO CHILDHOOD
IN THE BIG BIG CITY
Manhattan, NYC

My mother never did a chore.
Each day until eleven
(in her lovely bed)
she chatted on the phone.
(Wait. Oh, yes — I saw her mend a hem.)

We never saw her very much,
and rarely had a hug.
Others took good care of us
and we had many a toy.

            Such were the ways
            of people in those days.

Traveling high and down again
the elevator man was friendly every time.
Ladies wore both hat and gloves,
the doorman tipped his cap.
Traffic thick with honking horns
called for holding adult hands.

Food and drink were ordered
by the telephone; delivered by a boy.
Evenings out meant wearing tux
and wearing lengthy gown.
Children could be seen (at their best)
but seldom heard.

            Such were the artificial ways
            of people in those early days.

Summers: we climbed mountains green
and swam in salty seas.
Days were spent in great museums
and many a crowded concert hall.
We eagerly sampled these.

Also, we read many a book
shaded, on a lawn.
We even plowed the ocean —
our small feet touching France.

            Those were the privileged ways
            of people in those days.

Yet we were vassals and we were playthings
to the generation that came before us —
even after marriage.

Such were the ways of “grown-ups”
during the 1920s, and beyond
(in our little social circle
in the big big city).

            We barely remember those early days
            in the midst of very different ways.