The family from Brighton Beach, went to the Catskills for the summer months. The Catskills was the mecca for the Jewish community in Brooklyn and most probably the other boroughs too. Our family all went to the same bungalow colony, I believe it was Seletsky's Farm but I am not clear on that but remember the name clearly. Nonetheless, everyone was within a few feet of one another. Our family occupied about 4 or 5 bungalows. My Aunt Sarah would go to a hotel nearby, see Kutscher's video below.
The fathers would come up on the week-ends on the bull train, that is what they called it and few of us knew what that meant. It was a indeed a special time for all of us.
It was exciting to be outdoors, without concrete under our feet. It was also a time for all of the cousins to be together. We were just feet away from one another. We would start the day with each other, take a lunch break and then continue until dusk with our imaginations providing hours of fun.
Here is a little video of the Catskills to refresh memories of what it was like and what it was about. Of course to the young people watching this, it is history.
It was a magical time. No television, just radio. Listening to the radio stories of The Lone Ranger, The Shadow, etc., required your imagination to play in your mind the scenes that were described. Using one's imagination was the call of the day. One of the many games we played, due to my imagination, was bus driver. Yes, bus driver; as that is what my father did for a living. In order to play this made up game effectively, we needed a wheel to represent driving a bus. What better thing to use but a pot cover.
All of the cousins came out to play with pot covers from their bungalow. We brought pennies as well since bus drivers actually gave change to riders. It provided many hours of fun walking and running around the property and playing bus driver.
There was, however, a reckoning at the end of the summer. When it was time to pack up, the cry heard around the property was, "did you see my pot cover?" Of course, all of the children feigned innocence and the net result was missing pot covers as we all headed back to Brooklyn, NY. Our mothers were more guarded in the subsequent summers but it is a wonderful memory that I will never forget.