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When I was very young, my mother brought me to a park. In the old
days it was called "Union Camp" because it was used as a drill and
camp ground for soldiers in training before they were shipped off to
war. In my day and now the place is called "Soldiers Park". I think
because of its history and the statue that still is there. The very
first time there, I met my soldier.
He was dressed in a uniform of a period my mother said was from a
long time ago called, the Civil War. He was standing in a kind of a
relaxed way, leaning on his gun, that later I found out, was a
musket. He looked to me sad, thoughtful, and I wondered what he was
thinking of. A t the time, I remember asking my mother, "Is he
real"? My mother told me "No Alex, he isn't real, but was there as a
reminder of a terrible war that happened many years ago". When I
asked her why, she went on to say, "There were some people who
wanted something mean, and some good people who wanted it changed,
so a great war was fought to make it good, so that everyone could be
happy". This was a pretty good explanation for a six year old boy.
As I grew older, I was allowed to go to the Soldiers Park and play
by myself and other children. There was a “Mounted Police Officer"
, who rode his horse all the time, and we called him "Policeman
Jim". He was friendly, and once in a while, lifted me and some other
children up on his horse, and let us sit high up in the saddle. The
horse Policeman Jim said was named Wigwam. Wigwam, he told us, would
look before he crossed the street, like we were taught to do, and if
a car was coming, Wigwam refused to cross.
We thought that was pretty funny.
I would go to the park and talk to my soldier, he looking down
sadly, me looking up, and I would tell him what I did or was going
to do, and in his relaxed way, always seemed to be listening, and my
confidence grew. Even when I was away from the park, I pretended he
was near, and talked to him, so that I wasn't afraid of the dark,
nor my dad's scary cellar, and always tried to be good in school,
and for my mother, and when I played with other kids my age.
Sometimes when Policeman Jim could, he would tell us a little of
what my soldier did, the great battles he was in, his friends that
died, and I thought maybe that's why my soldier looked so sad,
because he was thinking of all that. I felt sorry of him and
wished I could have helped him.
In high school, my history teacher Mr. Fressie, taught us about that
Great War for only three days. I remember asking him if he could
teach us a little. Mr. Fressie said, "Alex, I wish I could, but
there are hundreds of books out there on the Civil War, read
them"!! I wish I could tell Mr. Fressie that I did!!!!!
As I look back to those years, I often think that every young person
should have some kind of a role model, someone to look up to,
admire, and wonder about, as I did with my soldier in the park. He
represented something honorable, heroic, something that made me burn
within for knowledge, that is with me to this day.As I learned, and
tried very hard to learn more, my confidence continued to grow.
There were other encouraging examples I had as a young child; the
goose bumps that chilled me when I heard the "Hi Ho Silver" on the
radio listening to The Lone Ranger, singing along with Tom Mix as he
sang "Start The Morning with Hot Ralston" the program's theme song,
the sound of Superman as he flew " faster than a speeding bullet",
and sitting with mom as we listening to the gentle words of "The
Romance of Helen Trent" coming out of that little box called a
radio. It was programs like these, brought over the air to each
home, in living rooms, kitchens, bedrooms, that gave us a wholesome
imagination back then. This is so different to what we hear on TV or
on the web today.
My youth at least, started with a granite statue of a Union Soldier
in a park, with a Mounted Police Officer sitting straight and proud
on a large horse on a big horse named Wigwam, that didn't cross the
street if a car was coming), of thrilling imaginative program's over
the radio, that brought more imagination then can be measured!!
I tried very hard to bring up my three children the same. Okay, we
didn't have the soldier in the park, or police officer on his horse.
I wanted to give them examples, to give incentive to find some of
their own, something that would give them interest and spark, to
learn, and want to learn more. This is far from a perfect world, but
I would like to think I tried to make it so, and had fun in the
process.
Maybe what I'm trying to say is pick and choose more carefully, not
so much for, but more so "with" your children, and yourself and
perhaps the world will become a little bit better
I was born in 1937 and lived thru all of World War Two. Some
naturally I don't remember, but some I do, like the air raids,
half-moons on the front lights of automobiles, Mr O' Bern next door
as an "air raid warden", with his white helmet with the red triangle
I think it was, in the middle. I also remember that, though scary at
times, my dad and mom and all our neighbors kept believing, from
the very beginning, that we would win this war. Our leaders never
wavered.
I can remember saving bacon grease, newspapers, tin cans, victory
gardens, using "ration stamps". I still have half a ration book;
it's green with black cannons on it!! . Every once in a while I go
back to Staten Island, you know, to see neighbors, old friends, and
every once in a while also I'll stop at "The Soldiers Park", walk to
the very same bench that my Mother sat with me some seventy years
ago, and to just think and remember the easier simpler life I had as
a child there. Maybe, between you and I, I talk to my Soldier and
tell him some secrets. Then I walk away in a peaceful frame of mind,
relaxed and with a familiar confidence I can still remember he gave
me when I was six years old.
"
Sometimes, but not all, I wish we could go back and once more have
the feelings we had. My Lord in Heaven, wouldn't that be nice??
Alex DeVito class of "56"
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