I knew that it was a secret, and that I was part of it. In the Far Rockaways
on Long Island, where we spent the summer months, there were two popular
theaters. On Saturday, my Grandpa would take me to one of them, where he knew
the ushers and usherettes, and would ask them to look after me. I would sit
in the last row and whimper. When the ushers offered to take me home, I would
push them away. Somehow, I thought I was supposed to cry; I also knew I had
no intention of leaving. So, I'd sniffle and sob and love every minute of
watching the movie through my tears. The secret was that my grandpa would
leave me there alone, and he would return after a few hours. Even though I
didn't understand about mistresses, I was proud to be a part of it. I loved
being a five-year-old, happily and deeply entrenched in family intrigue.

Ten years before the Depression, from May through September, we lived in the
Far Rockaways, at the end of Brooklyn en route to Long Island......