At ten years 1960 was a time of fun and learning. We had just moved into a new neighborhood when Elvis came home from Germany. The news gave us a sneak peek into the 1960s when Air Force pilot Francis Gary Powers U2 spy plane was shot down by a Soviet missile. On Saturday, my cousin and I stopped to buy baseball cards on the way home from seeing Ben Hur at the corner theater. After brushing my flat top with a runway-like center, we decided to see if there were any “girls” hanging out on their porches. After being distracted by an older man’s 230-horsepower Corvette, we arrived at our destination.
The ladies dropped their hula hoops when we invited them to a party in my basement. Saturday afternoons were for fun after morning little league baseball or a movie. My parents just bought a new house on Cape Cod for $10,500 and the unfinished basement gave the Twist an echo-like sound and we hit some coke bottles. The night brought a black and white TV series with Raw Hide for us.
On Sunday we went to church. Of course, during fellowship we’d grab the weekly bulletin and head over to Parkside Candies for a Vanilla Phosphate to talk about sports and girls. The early afternoon hours were filled with the aroma of Mom’s gravy cooking and the clang of plates and cutlery. Sometimes there were family gatherings where we played trivia on Sunday nights and more often it was just a time to relax and watch TV. Maybe we’d go to the Rome Olympics and see Cassius Clay win gold.
Monday through Friday brought a variation of activity. You could daydream about how you would draw a map of the US now that Hawaii has become the 50th state. Someone knocked on the door and handed out a record-breaking promotion of 45 to a guy named Nixon who was running for president. Of course, it was baseball almost every day of the week when my father cleared a field so we could play with a sickle.
A visit to my cousin’s house was also usually necessary, and sometimes I would stay the night. My nickname was “Trouble” so it should give a hint about overturning trash cans and throwing tomatoes at various objects and sometimes subjects. We were pretty bad for a couple of guys wearing “clamshells.” Of course, no day could be complete without making faces at the lady in the “Fish Shop” window. In fact, he had a baseball bat with spikes on it, so when he came out from behind the counter, we outran Maury Wills.
The summer of 1960 brought Mazerowski’s famous home run against the Yankees and the Pittsburgh Pirates World Championship. It was the year of the underdog, the “Twist,” listening to Dion, watching the Flintstones, and for a ten-year-old, a hot, fun-filled summer.