My Turn: Growing up with North Woodmere

Moving to a new housing development in North Woodmere from Brooklyn in the early 1960s was quite a change.

It was a whole new world for many young families then. (Actually North Woodmere, to this day, shares a ZIP code with Valley Stream. Maybe that's why I often was asked, "Where is that place?")

There was not a fence or tree to be found in the yards. The block where I grew up had rows of similar high ranches with street names having references to the game of golf. Kids did lots of activities to keep busy throughout the day -- Girl Scouts or Cub Scouts, sports and clubs.

There was something very serene about coming home to that area each night. Traffic? We never had any. OK, the half-moon [amusement] ride and Good Humor ice cream truck count, if you consider that traffic. At times, kids played in the street, but mostly it really was quiet. It was so quiet that my aunt in Rosedale, Queens, who lived maybe 10 minutes away, commented something like, "Even a dog didn't come down the block."

I grew up with my closest cousin, who lived in Rosedale, a much busier place, and we loved both places. To me, I had the best of all worlds. In the '60s, we'd go to nearby Green Acres mall in Valley Stream; we could walk there and back. The highlight for my cousin and me was window shopping (we called ourselves the "Buzzin' Cousins"), or our moms buying us what was called a bagel pretzel from the concession stands.

We had fun times nearby on the bowling league at the popular Green Acres Bowl, which had the greatest burgers and a cool, large pinball arcade on the lower level. North Woodmere had one local shopping area within walking distance: the A&P shopping center on Hungry Harbor Road. Later, the A&P became a Foodtown.

Many Saturdays, I'd walk to the Philbe candy store with my grandfather to get candy or a toy. That stationery store was the one where we'd get all of our Lawrence School District school supplies.

When I got a little older, I'd walk with my friends to the pizza place. It was 50 cents a slice, at most, in those days. Just a counter and pizza, but to us it was a simple pleasure. Of course, talking teenage gossip along the walk was half the fun.

The opening of North Woodmere Park was exciting. I was there for the opening day to watch the ribbon- cutting ceremony with Nassau County Executive Ralph Caso. Suddenly, we had a beautiful pool, tennis courts and lawn to roam -- and all-access with a $1 Leisure Pass.

In neighboring Cedarhurst, there was shopping for the latest trends, seeing a movie on Central Avenue, or stopping at a local deli for matzo ball soup and a hot dog. We called it "Saturdays in town."

North Woodmere was a beautiful place to grow up, and I do feel lucky having had the experience.

--Madeline Lipton,Wantagh

A RICH GREEK HERITAGE

For 24 years, my home was Astoria, Queens -- known as Little Athens -- with my parents and six of us children. We fostered friendships with teenagers and young adults of similar ethnic backgrounds.

Leading a hermetically sealed life, our first language was Greek at home, in church and socially. Once I attended school, I learned to appreciate the English language. When I entered the business world with Pan American World Airways, I learned to mix and meld with people of all nations and loved it.

When my parents moved to Port Jefferson, I met and married my husband, George, who was from Tennessee (of the same heritage as mine). We lived in the house that George built! Our three children were raised in Centereach, where English was their first language and life for all of us, for the most part, was living the American way. Except for the close link at church and social functions when my parents were alive and keeping the flame of their native tongue burning, English was predominant for my children.

I am proud, though, that they have great pride in being Americans, but also appreciate their Anatolian-Greek heritage. Their friends have often told me how much they love Greek food and are fascinated by the lively music and dance that everyone alludes to in the movie "My Big Fat Greek Wedding."

When I bought my first car, a 1951 Chevrolet, my children were able to enjoy all parts of Long Island: Jones Beach, the parks, and North and South shores. I named my car Antigone and at times, when feeling nostalgic for my hometown, I would drive us to Astoria, although I know I "can't go home again" to stay.

Since the loss of my husband, and with my children on their own raising their families, I attend Stony Brook University classes with more than 900 seniors in the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute. Studying French and Spanish with others is fun, though my fondest passion is links to Greek.

Above all, I have the best of both worlds -- having my children and their families on Long Island, where they prefer to live, and continuing my education with the elderly.

Meanwhile, I am an active member of the American Foundation for Greek Language and Culture, which has partnered with Stony Brook University to create a Hellenic Studies Center on campus. At home or elsewhere with others, I maintain close friendships with fellow Greeks to use, and not to lose, the Greek language.

--Vasiliky Souloupoglou Turner,Centereach

WISDOM FROM A BEACH

Superstorm Sandy presented many challenges to our area's beaches, including Hewlett Point, in East Rockaway, one of my favorite "almost" secret places on Long Island. Toward sundown in August, the light ripples across the bay, and I could swear on certain days that I was on some enchanted stretch along the Mediterranean.

There's a particular joy for me in having walked those sands since I was a boy.

Hewlett also presents a lesson: Some problems can be reasonably resolved. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, bay swimmers would come out covered with an oily, blackish residue. Parents, in those pre-ecologically sensitive times, presumed there was no need for concern, and would advise their kids to take a quick locker-room shower or jump in Hewlett Point Park's outdoor pool. The resolution, years later, ultimately came simply by forbidding vessels at the next-door yacht club from moving too close to shore.

For decades now, the worst you'll get from the bay is a bit of seaweed on your leg. Or perhaps a pinch if you happen to step on one of the crabs that occasionally rises to the top of the silt!

--James H. Burns, Valley Stream

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