Memories are NOT made of this

Ever wonder how and where I grew up? So do I. Not a day goes by without seeing and feeling how my upbringing influenced who I am today. One example of what I had to endure, being on the cusp of “modern” living and old-fashioned take it as it goes living, is this image of how I accessed public transportation in Brooklyn, New York in the ’50’s.
I remember ever so clearly being on this platform. I remember as a little child being told to run through and pretend I was younger than I was, let’s say 6, to get on for free. I remember the noise, the smell, the terror of walking up steps that were metal and open in the center. If anything, I was not a person who suffered from vertigo, although I wonder sometimes.
Standing on these platforms with shoes that allowed the cold to come through. Numb, cold toes on the way to work in New York City. I think I was mercifully dumb in those days. I don’t realize how lucky I was to not question anything that went down.
What went down was all the stupidity of working for people who were again, coming up form the 1930’s and oblivious of the world we live in now.
Are we lucky or not to have overcome this…there are people still standing on these platforms waiting for the train to take them to work. The big executives and the little secretaries still mingle and mix in the cars and the seats.
Let it be.
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