50
FEBRUARY2016
AMERICANWAY
ALMOST 50 YEARS LATER, I STILL CAN’T
rememberexactlyhoworwhymy fatherdecided
to takeour familyonvacation toCaliforniaand
Hawaii.Maybe itwasbecauseourneighbor,Abe
Belsky,had lefthis jobwitha food-distribution
company tobecomea travelagent.Maybe itwas
becausemymotherhadgrownexhaustedwith
ourusualAugustvacationatLakeGeorge in
upstateNewYork,whereourrentedcabinmerely
changed thescenery fromherroutineofcooking,
cleaningand laundry.
Whatever thereasons for the trip, itremains
fixed inmymemory. Irecallwakingup froma
jet-lag-inspirednap inSanFrancisco to findSteve
Allen’scomedyshowplayingonTV. Iwalked
to thewindow,parted thecurtainsandsawa
landscapeofstreetlightsandneonsigns.Here,
inahighroomof theJackTarHotel,back in the
summerof 1967,begana lifelong loveof travel.
A fewmonthsshyofmy12thbirthday, I felt
prettysophisticated forakid fromsuburbanNew
Jersey.Our familyregularlydrove the40miles
intoManhattan formuseums,Broadwayplays
andour favoriteLatinAmericanrestaurant—but
wehadrarely traveled far.Sometimes,whenI
spent theweekendwithmycousins in theBronx,
wewoulddriveover toKennedyAirport tostand
on theobservationdeckandstroll through the
terminals, graspingatsomething inexpressibly
exoticabout theworldout there.
My father,David,musthaveshared these
yearnings, ashesat inAbe’sstorefrontagency,
poringover thebrochures forhotelsandamuse-
mentparks,paging throughan indexof flightsas
thickasa telephonebook.The itineraryAbeand
my fatherdevisedcouldnothavespokenmore
deeply tomycollectionofyouthfulpassions.
Thepreviousspring, Ihadstarted togrowmy
crewcut into longbangs, trying to fashionmyself
an incipienthippie. (Onemorning,mymother,
Eleanor,wokeme forschoolwith thisnewsbulle-
tin: “Iwaswatchingashow lastnightabout those
CLOCKWISEFROMLEFT
:
SanFrancisco’s
TransamericaPyramid
and theColumbus
Tower; theGolden
GateBridge; acaféon
HaightStreet
A
