saturday of memories

On the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend from 1955 until 1963 my sister and I would drive with my father to Father and Son Shoes located in the East Liberty neighborhood of Pittsburgh. We would walk into the store and ask for Lou. Lou wearing his blue suit with a his red tie, blue socks and red, white blue handkerchief hanging from his left pocket with the initials LKL would smile a huge grin hand us a piece of wrapped candy and welcome us. And he would say its summer time!

My sister and I would get our official its summer time canvass shoes with a thick one inch rubber soul. My sisters would be in beige and mine was in blue. These shoes were made by magicians I was sure because as each day summer passed the soul on the shoe would decrease and almost disappear by the Sunday night of Labor Day as the Jerry Lewis Telethon began.

On the Saturday of Memorial Day Weekend after we drove to East Liberty, my dad would drop off my sister at home and he and I would drive to the Regent Square neighborhood of the city and head off to Jerry and Son Barber Shop. Jerry senior would hug my dad, speaking in Italian say, ‘Tempo d'estate lo scarto di un bravo ragazzo’ then laugh and say to me do you know what I just said. For the first few years I just shook my head and shyly said no. Jerry senior would slap me on my back and say by Labor Day for your next haircut you had better know. Finally as the third year approached for my Memorial Day haircuts,  after Jerry spoke to me in Italian I would look him in the eye and say ‘summer time haircut for a good boy’. Jerry would chuckle hand me a cigar and say ‘Un ragazzo intelligente’, what a smart boy.

This haircut was shorter then a crew cut and like the days of summer grew longer until all I needed to do was buy a can of wax use a round crew cut comb and brush my almost invisible hair. Like my shoes this haircut lasted the entire summer until Jerry Lewis announced the most amazing total for his Telethon on TV.

On the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend after buying the shoes and getting the haircut, my Dad would take my sister and I and drive to the Squirrel Hill Police Station. He was the desk Sargent at this station. When we entered the station both my sister and I would hear the following: nice shoes, looking at me like the haircut, with one or two policemen brushing their hands on my non-existent hair. They would then ask us to stand against the wall taking a pencil and drawing our height measurement on the wall. Then one policeman acting stern would look at my sister and I and say when you come back here at the end of summer you both better be taller then this mark. 

We then carried four dozen American flags from the basement of the jail to our car. A few policemen shouted to us, you know why we celebrate this holiday. My sister and I knew but even if we didn’t we still shook our heads in a very animated way.

My Dad, sister and I would bring the flags home and on the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend my sister and I and a friend or two, we deemed important, would walk up and down Denniston Avenue knocking on the doors of our neighbors and give them each a flag.

Back in the day my Memorial Day weekend, was a phased in holiday. In Linden School, the week before, Miss Cyphers our music teacher taught us The Caissons Go Rolling Along, The Marine’s Hymn, Anchors Away, My Country Tis of Thee and America the Beautiful. Miss Mac Intier our Social Studies teacher had a week long lesson on WWI, WWII and the Korean War. She told us to always salute the flag and say thank you to anyone who ever fought in a war to make America safe.

Saturday’s were chores for the holiday weekend. Sunday we watched at least four movies “The Best Years of Our Lives”, “Stars and Stripes Forever”, “Sands of Iwo Jima and always one with a bunch of movie stars entertaining for the Troops. My mother would bake her apple and cherry pie, the best fried chicken in the world and potato salad. On Memorial Day we would all gather at the corner of Shady Avenue and Aylesboro Street and watch as my Dad kept the Memorial Day Parade for Squirrel Hill run on time.

On this Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, I have a lump in my throat, a teeny tear ready to drop, a sigh and a deep breath. I am grateful having lived in a country that has permitted me to feel free. I am grateful for the brave men and women who above all else believed in preserving freedom. I am hopeful that the potential for good we have had in the past in this nation doesn’t die and is not destroyed not by an enemy from a foreign  shore, but by cowards from within.

Happy Saturday of Memorial Day weekend.