I was raised in New York City, in the boroughs of Manhattan and the Bronx, actually, all over the place including Brooklyn, long island (pronounced long island by those who live there), and parts of new jersey. It was a time when streets were lined with venders, selling their wares; fresh fish, apples and all kinds of vegetables, flowers, and all other household necessities. It was a time when ice was delivered to apartments such as where I lived for our ‘ice box’. It was a time when, both, the second avenue elevator and the third avenue elevator were still operating. The year was about 1936 when the street venders began to congregate indoors. Someone came up with the term, co-op.
I attended thirteen schools; eleven were elementary grades and one in another country it was a mess. Depending on which school I entered, I was either, advanced a grade or two, or put back a grade or two. In those days, a grade consisted of 1a and 1b, etc. Think about it. If a child does very well, that child may skip from 1a to 2a. On the other hand, if the child does poorly, he may only miss half a grade. This is not a bad idea.
Writing the episodes of my life, which lead to my present age of 79+ years are events i find myself looking forward to recall. It is amazing what the memory banks of the brain retain and I highly recommend this task. So many memories forgotten and recalled, both the good and bad. You hear people say that if they could, they would do things differently. I wonder. It is not until something occurs that you can wish you did things differently. The only true way is to walk in god’s wisdom always.
It started with mom and dad. Really? I was born in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania in January of 1931. My birth certificate still reads “Kurt max Fischer”. It seems mom and dad had one of their spats again. It must have been concerning what my name was to be. They evidently talked and came to a compromise. Ever since, I have been known as “Rolf”. At an early age, while walking the streets of N.Y.C. With my uncle Ernie, I learned to whistle and overlook the bad; not forget them. If you are smart, much of the past becomes a learning experience. There is nothing I could do to change things. There must have been more bad than good, because my whistling got so good, I was the only one of the 200 + congregation allowed to do so in church. Actually, an elder named Gordon Strongitharm was also a fantastic whistler. Sometimes we did it together. I recall hearing someone else being hushed and told that only Mr. Fischer was allowed to whistle. In a cashier’s line in stores, people thought my whistling was part of the store radio. Any bragging to be done belongs to Jesus. Whistling was one of the many talents my lord gave me; and my uncle Ernie, nine years my senior. While walking side by side on the city streets of New York, he taught me to whistle.
“Not that way, this way”, he would say until I got it right. Of all my six uncles, I would be hard put to say which my favorite was. Ernie probably is the favorite. Because of our closeness in age, and he lived in the same apartment building we did. In addition, if you wanted to visit anyone, you just did it. I do not recall a telephone at the home of any of the families; as a matter of fact, not at the home of any of our friends either.
