We lived in Bensonhurst, in a 12-room Victorian that had been divided into apartments. I occupied the second floor with my dad, while Chickie and his wife and two babies lived on the first floor and my Aunt Edna and Uncle Dave and their sons Leo and Charlie lived on the attic floor. There was also Mr. Bilideau, the boarder, who was a leftover from the time when my grandmother had rented rooms. There had once been a Mr. Yumtov…
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life sketches
I was a late starter at deer hunting because I moved back to Brooklyn just before I turned 16. It was while in the Army and reading Hemingway and Faulkner that I got the bug to hunt whitetails on Panther Mountain with my old friend Gerard in Richfield Springs.…
Once a year, Dad would let the Buick down and get it started, not without a lot of trouble. It was always a group effort. Roger’s father and a couple of other guys on the block would help push it out onto the driveway. They’d inflate the tires and trickle gas into the carburetor.…
I knew they didn’t like American soldiers in Germany, but I didn’t encounter unfriendly vibes from the French until attending the Running of the Bulls in July of 1966 in Pamplona, Spain. I am a Francophile, due to my maternal grandmother’s origin being a French mountain village in the province of Auvergne.…
I was working on construction in a high-rise building in lower Manhattan. My partner, “Roidney” Bunion, was 10 years younger than me, an ex-football player and a product of the “tune out and turn on” generation.…
Life Sketches by Terry Berkson Retired Poultry FarmerRecalls ‘Roger’s Colossus’in Face of Avian Flu Epidemic Recently, Roger and Diane Vaughn—who operated the only small commercial poultry farm situated along the Route 20 corridor between Albany and Syracuse—retired. Theirs was one of about 15 remaining egg-laying operations in the state. At one time, there were 15 small farms like theirs within a 15-mile radius. Then, the average setup consisted of about 300,000 birds, which made the Vaughns’ flock of poultry look…
Life Sketches by Terry Berkson Made in the Shade: There’s More Than One Way to Curb a Rooster I once had this beautiful tropical fish that was mutilating and eating up the rest of the fish in the tank. It looked like he would have to be flushed down the drain, but before doing so, I tried threading a piece of dental floss through his tail with a sewing needle to create a drag that would slow him down when…
Life Sketches by Terry Berkson Heart of the House: Uncle Harry’s Gift of Conversion a Godsend In 1932, my Uncle Harry graduated from New York’s City College with a degree in aeronautical engineering. For more than a year he tried to get a job in that field but, likely due to the Great Depression, he was unsuccessful. So, he turned to the heating business where thousands of homes and industrial buildings were converting to oil to take the place of…
Life Sketches by Terry Berkson The Ritz Crossing In late November of 1965 my dad, in his yellow taxi cab, ferried me and my duffle bag down to the Brooklyn Army Terminal where I would board the USS Darby bound for Bremerhaven, Germany. Several other soldiers who had also gone to Preventive Medicine School were among the 1,400 troops that were about to cross the Atlantic. The water was calm for the first few days but, in spite of the…
Life Sketches by Terry Berkson Out On The Ice One bitterly cold morning, Joe Gravelding, my muskrat-trapping partner, didn’t come to call for me. It was the weekend, so I figured he slept in knowing he could count on me to go and check the line. When I left the house, my dog, Pinkie, began to follow me. I threw a few snowballs at him and yelled for him to go home, but he kept trailing me. Pinkie might sound…