Jay's memories

My earliest childhood memory dates from around 1956 when I was about three years old and we were still living in the apartment on Greeby Street in Oxford Circle. Mom took me to see my first movie (I have no idea where Ellis was—it was just Mom and I). We walked to the neighborhood theatre (“Castor”?) and got there after the movie had begun. The only seat left was on the front row. I was sitting on Mom’s lap, and I only remember one scene from the movie: a close-up of the head of an Indian (PC: read “native American”) sporting a Mohawk haircut and in war-paint filled the screen. He let out a war-whoop and then I started crying (loudly, I think). Mom just cuddled me for the rest of the movie, and I was too afraid to look up at the screen again.

I don’t remember getting taken to the movies again for quite some time…

There was a time when I would take Mom to the movies. My elementary school vice-principal had a thing for the opera, and all fifth- and sixth- graders went to the Academy of Music twice a year to see the now defunct Lyric Opera company. Being a public school got us discount tickets, but we still sat in the uppermost tier. I was exposed very early to Carmen, Aida, and La Traviata…. And learned very young to like opera (if not fully appreciate it: I remember crying the day after seeing Carmen when the production was panned in the Inquirer—I had loved the spectacle and the music). Once out of Lamberton, opera tickets became too expensive for me, but around once a year some highbrow producer would decide that Americans would go see a filmed version. Not only couldn’t I go with my friends; I was afraid to even mention to most of them that I was interested. So I asked Mom to go with me….

The very first time I asked her, she gave me a big kiss and got teary eyed. I said something smart-aleky like “Well, if you’re going to cry, I’m not going to take you.” We went to see La Boheme which actually got a full week’s run at City Line Center. We both loved the film and loved having someone to go with. Mom couldn’t keep her promise though—when Mimi died she was weeping buckets. We did, however, continue to see films together off and on whenever there was something that we thought fit “our” profile. I think the last was “Enchanted April” when I was in the States without Genia. Going to the films and discussing them gave us some of our best times together.