Happiness

Happiness, that's the word that comes to mind when thinking about being a Woodsdale Kid in the 1950's. There were so many friends, so much to do: flip baseball cards, read and trade comic books, play Indian ball, shoot baskets in by backyard or with a friend across the street, read books on the front porch swing, get excited as the days for the bookmobile's arrival approached, see Vincent Purpura's vegetable truck stop in front of our house.

Living at 30 Poplar Avenue from the 1950's to the summer of 1962 was one of the happiest times of my life. I'm still in touch with the now 96 yr old woman who lived with her husband and daughter in the other half of our duplex. Playing with the Quinn Kids two doors down. These and so many other memories are still fresh in my mind. I vividly recall crying when I heard we were moving to Los Angeles the summer before my senior year at Triadelphia. We might as well be moving to the moon. California seemed so far away.

For me, Woodsdale was the perfect place to grow up. I have not been back in almost 50 years and circumstances now preclude my doing so, but that's okay. I prefer to remember Woodsdale the way it was: Woodsdale School with its solid stone able to absorb all the laughter, tears, and learning that occurred within its structure. The building is gone, the memories aren't. Perhaps the passage of time has made my time in Woodsdale more idyllic than I remember. I hope not!

Stuart Rubinstein, Los Angeles, California