Brighton Beach, the next stretch of sand, east of Coney Island. Each summer and early fall, Ron hears the call of the sea, needs another swim in the water. This is where he grew up, was a lifeguard. These days he is amazed how few join him.
The non-swimming family member, I sit on a bench and knit. Hold up camera, snap the passers-by. In Ron's day, Brighton was a Yiddish-speaking enclave of first and second generation Jewish families. Today, late 20th century immigrants are still largely Jewish. But Russian is the language in the air--no Yiddish. New grocery stores line Brighton Beach Avenue to sell imported delicacies, curious meat products, cans and jars filled with different--to us--tastes.
Which brings me to MILLIE GARFIELD, a sister Leo and Elderblogger, 82 years today. Millie would be hard pressed to find responders to her Yiddish lessons on the Avenue. (Have you learned yet? The lessons are on her blog.) Last year, she was the first inductee of The Society of Little Red Hens-- for her spunkiness in blogging and her video-documented efforts to open those remarkably well-sealed containers that make America great. A Gutten gebortstug, Millie!