From sensible to sentimental to silly, keepsakes and mementos reside in basements and storerooms as material reminders of the halcyon days. This is some of my stuff.
Recollections from the Sixties include getting my hair cut by Mr. Spiegelman at The Modern Barbershop on Côte-des-Neiges south of Jean Brillant, then going next door to The Dutch Mill to scrutinize a chrome Exakta camera in the showcase. Perhaps this was the genesis of my attraction to photography.
Once, in a Wizard of Oz moment, I wandered behind the counter at the Snowdon Delicatessen to discover Abe, Jack and Phil were not quite the towering figures I would look up at as they expertly carved a brisket, but were actually three gentlemen of short stature standing on a significantly raised floor.
David Lisak lived on Kenmore Place. Saturday afternoons in winter we'd gather in front of his home and play street hockey with Bob and Mark Sherman, taking shots at each other with a frozen tennis ball. David possessed a wicked wrist shot – deadly accurate and launched with great velocity. When frozen tennis ball struck frozen thigh it not only stung, but left a black and blue welt that lingered for days.
© 2024 Daniel Wiener
