My first girlfriends

My neighborhood, in Baldwin, NY, here, was dominated by guys. We were members of the girl-haters club, which memory tells me was an actual institution. I don't recall details, but I do recall the neighborhood ethos: no girls allowed.

And I was a traitor. I had a girlfriend. Actually several, all kept secret from the guys.

The neighborhood
There was my brother and me. We had a sister, but she was irrelevant. Sorry, sis. You're relevant now, but not then.

Across Madison Avenue lived Johnny and Kenny DeLuca, Johnny a year younger than me, Kenny a year older. They had a much younger sister, Virginia. Also irrelevant.

Down Madison were the Klyvers: four boys: Dan, the oldest was in high school. That made him a god. Dick, was a few years older than we were; a demigod. A talented artist, I remember him making dinosaurs out of clay. Years later I tripped across one of his pieces in an art gallery in Blue Hill. The twins, Nels and John were a couple of years younger than us. John wanted to be a witch doctor. Then an undertaker. Then a gynecologist. He ended up an IRS agent. Figures.

No girls in that family.

Across Dartmouth was Donny Turano. His younger sister was, Linda, and was, of course irrelevant.

Down Dartmouth were the Bobs: Bob Thorsen and Bob Soderstrom. Older than us, and thus also demigods.

Year round we rode our bikes on the street. We clipped playing cards to the fenders with clothespins to rattle against the spokes and make us sound like we were motorized. We didn't go anywhere. Mostly we just rode around and around.

In the winter we'd sled. They weren't too good at plowing the streets in those days, so street sledding was good.

In the autumn we played football in the street. In the summer it was softball. See that tree? That's first base. That one's second. That flattened tin can in the middle of the street? That's second base. And this one is home.

Batter up!

Side note: most of the families that lived in the neighborhood had kids. There were two that didn't. The Nylands loved kids. The Sieberts hated them. When we hit a ball that landed on the Sieberts' lawn, Mr. Siebert would come running out and try to grab it before we did. I don't think he ever did. He was too slow.

So he started to park is car on the street instead of his driveway. His car was in short left field, where a well-hit ball would break his windshield. Go figure. My Mom went and asked him to move it, but he refused. So she played left field for both teams. She caught everything that went in that direction. Mom was gooood!

My First Girlfriends
I can remember my first only by name, place, and approximate time. No images. No stories. Name: Deena (or Dina). Place: Brooklyn. We lived at 350 E. 55th Street (Google Maps image here). Approximate time:  we moved from Brooklyn when I was in second grade, so about then.

Next one was in Baldwin. I remember her with a bit more clarity. She was cute and had freckles. Her name was Patty Tonrey, lived on the other side of DeMott Avenue, and she broke my heart when her family moved, taking her, to Florida as I remember.

The one I remember best was Barbara Theilman. She lived blocks away, on the other side of school. I have two clear memories: one was biking over to her house to see her. The other was sitting in class singing "Tell me why?"

Tell me why the stars do shine.
Tell me why they ivy twines.
Tell me why the skies are blue.
And I will tell you just why I love you.

Because God made the stars to shine.
Because God made the ivy twine.
Because God made the skies so blue.
Because God made you, is why I love you.

We'd sing the the song and at each fourth line I'd sneak a look at Barbara, and she'd sneak a look at me.

Young love! And don't get caught by the guys.

Later at MIT, I learned a different version of the song:

Nuclear fusion's why stars do shine.
Tropisms make the ivy twine.
Rayleigh diffraction's why skies are blue.
Glandular hormones---are why I love you.