Cliff's KV Notes, Part 2: Cliff Arrives Along With WW II

Overture: First some caveats. Dave tells me that I’m a “senior” on his blog, which means that many of you may have no idea about who or what I’m talking about. Also, this is not a historical piece, but subjective impressions through the eyes of a pre-adolescent. It is also subject to the accuracy (or lack of same) of a memory that is degraded with the onset of geezerhood, (or, in more common vernacular, “aging baby boomer-hood.”. Some of the names mentioned may be misspelled. For this, I apologize in advance. I’ll do the best I can. So, in reality, I ‘m probably writing all this for myself, which, by the way, was how the writers and directors of the Looney Tunes cartoons did it.—not for the moviegoers, not for the front office. They created the cartoons for themselves.
That said, I arrived on the scene in 1940, at the leading edge of the baby boomer curve. My father, Irving, was a Civil Defense Air Raid Warden, so he had more time to be (re)productive compared to guys in the service.

When my parents decided to keep me, they trundled me off to KV—apartment DG8. This was a one-bedroom unit that I have no recollection of. When my sister Susan suddenly appeared three years later, we moved to the 2-bedroom HG9. This was a great apartment with a beautiful view of the courtyard from my (and my sister’s) bedroom window. It was much nicer than the “30” courtyard where my grandparents lived (apt BE6). The “10” court had much more grass, the beautiful diagonal walk that bisected the courtyard, and a more mellow, countrified atmosphere.
Ivy (or whatever that green stuff was) grew up on the outside brick walls and was home to countless little caterpillars in the summer. My sister and I would gather a few up and electrocute them using my electric train transformer.
The kitchen faced the corner of the building, so it was in close proximity to other apartments. On a summer’s afternoon when everyone had their windows open, you could clearly hear the clanging of pots and pans in the other apartments as dinners were being prepared. You’d also hear telephones ringing—honest, loud, real bells from the huge Western electric telephone bell boxes—an unforgettable symphony.
More on the kitchen next time.
Ahead to part 3 Of Cliff's KV Notes
Back to Part 1 of Cliff's KV Notes