Rye Playland

Rye Playland

Growing up in the Bronx our nearest amusement park was Rye Playland on Long Island Sound north of the city in Westchester County.

As a kid I was often taken there by my parents,  but my memories of those childhood trips are vague.  As a teenager however, I remember Rye as a favorite summer destination.

On balmy nights the guys in our crowd who’d recently gotten their licenses and had been entrusted with the keys to the family car,  would drive us up there – usually with a little hanky-panky going on in the back seat.

We felt we were much too old and sophisticated for most of the rides and amusements,  but I remember we still rode the bumper cars.  And I remember how the guys vied to impress us with their skill knocking over rows of wooden ducks to win the tacky prizes we girls proudly took home.

And I remember how we walked around the park on those magical summer nights,  eating greasy hot dogs and sticky cotton candy,  and with our teenage bravado I remember how invincible we felt!

– Dana Susan Lehrman 

The Mall Is Dead – Long Live The Mall

From Department Store Detours to Deliveries at My Door

Hey there, comedy connoisseurs! Here I am here, fresh off a bargain hunt that left me with more questions than discounts. We all know the struggle is real when that cashier asks, “Paper or plastic?” But let me tell you, folks, things weren’t always this “eco-friendly dilemma” business. Back in my day (cue the dramatic music!), shopping was an adventure, not a chore delivered straight to your phone.

Now, don’t get me wrong, the internet is a beautiful thing. Need a spatula shaped like a cat? Boom, there it is on page 37 alongside a singing fish and a self-stirring mug. But here’s the thing I miss: the thrill of the hunt! Remember those weekend excursions to the mall with your mom, armed with a list and a dream? You’d strategically dodge neon signs and Cinnabon smells to find the perfect pair of toe warmers (don’t judge, it was the 90s).

There was a certain satisfaction in physically holding that item, comparing it to others, and maybe even negotiating a slightly lower price with a wink and a smile. Sure, online reviews exist now, but can they replicate the sage advice of a bored but attractive teenage female working the Gap who just wants to go on break? I think not.

Speaking of breaks, shopping trips were social events! You’d bump into your classmates, argue over who looked better in those ripped jeans (spoiler alert: it was never me), and maybe even catch a glimpse of your former crush at the Orange Julius stand. Now, the closest social interaction you get is the awkward exchange with your delivery person who wonders why you’re buying enough bubble wrap to build a house or worse perhaps enough to bury a body (it masks the smell pretty, pretty, pretty good).

But hey, let’s not get all misty-eyed for the bygone days of dial-up internet and neon everything. Online shopping is a lifesaver, especially when you’re in your PJs at 2 am). The convenience is undeniable. Plus, price comparison is a breeze, and those same neon leg warmers I coveted as a kid are just a click away (although, for the sake of everyone’s retinas, let’s keep those visuals in the past).

So, what’s the verdict? Shopping then and now is a tale of two vastly different experiences. We’ve gained unmatched ease and selection, but lost a bit of the social element and the joy of discovery through touch and feel. Maybe the future holds a happy medium: virtual reality malls where you can hang with your friends, haggle with a holographic salesperson, and still get your pizza delivered by drone. Until then, I’ll be navigating the digital aisles, reminiscing about the good ol’ days, and wondering if that singing fish comes with free shipping. See you at the checkout, folks!

–30–

 

How it Was and Is

Maybe my mother did not have the shopping gene or never shook off the Depression and Protestant ethos, but she seems to have passed that shopping ambivalence on to me.
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