A Tribute to Rob Parker & Family

 

A Tribute to Rob Parker and Family

I was a Bayview Ave. Water Rat since 1954. At the age of eight, I was taking in a whole new social life which included swimming, boating and water sports. There was lots to do for a young fellow and time passed quickly. I really can’t pinpoint when the Parker family moved into their home on Bayview Ave. but I seem to remember that house being occupied by some folks named Caroll, I think that was Grandma. In any event it wouldn’t take long to meet our new neighbors, the Parkers. There was Rob, Ginny, Buzz and Steven. And not to exclude Mr. Parker, a wholesome family man who took great interest in his children.

The school bus stop was diagonally across the street from their home in front of the Ackerly’s (everybody knew everybody on Bayview). We would sit on their metal fence while awaiting our daily ride to the East Northport Jr. High School a place designated for us while our own Northport Jr. High School on Laurel Rd. was shut down for renovations.

It was a spring morning, and in those days, I would “force-feed” paint coats onto my boat by getting up very early to apply a coat, and after school, I’d do another. This was not a very good way to prepare my wooden boat for the water, but it sure was twice as fast. I digress. This spring morning had the makings of a “two-coat day”. I put on my old clothes and sanded/painted the boat and then proceeded to breakfast. My mom would often serve Wheatena, a hot breakfast cereal that I hadn’t thought of in years. After breakfast, I grabbed my books and headed out the door for the bust stop. When I arrived the kids were all sitting on Ackerly’s fence and they seemed quite amused by my choice of “threads”. They immediately tore into me with insults and chants of “Dave Bruyn, Northport’s Bum”. When I realized that I had forgotten to change back into my school clothes, I was horrified. I had paint slops on my shirt, pants and shoes, a genuine example of disgrace. The Parker kids all chanted in unison, led by older brother, Rob “Dave Bruyn, Northort’s bum”. I was so ashamed that I turned and ran for home as quickly as I could, changed into proper attire and returned to the bus stop in time to make the bus. The sting of humiliation only lasted long enough to get my school clothes on and merge back into the mainstream of social environment.

Fast forward a few months: By now, it was 1959 and we Northport kids were in “full swing”. On the southeast corner of Bayview Avenue and James Street there was a major hill that eclipsed both Bayview and James. On that hill was a sturdy tree with a huge rope and a knot on the end. The rope looked like a hawser, the kind that Steers Tugboats used for towing barges. Because of the steepness of this hill, one could swing out towards Bayview and clear the top of the electric wires. In order to do this, it was necessary to grip the rope from the very bottom, just above the knot rather than the “safer” method of sitting on the knot.

For days, this was an after school calling and we enjoyed the challenge of outdoing one another in our quest for a “higher high”. On the last day I would ever go on that rope swing, there were a bunch of kids waiting their turn to go on as they watched me lose my grip at the apex of the swing. I must have passed out from fright, as the last thing I remember before hitting the ground was tree branches going by me followed by a resounding “gong” when my head it the ground. When I came to, Rob Parker was there to help me, and I couldn’t remember anything I had done that day. He walked me home right then and there and he told my mother “Mrs. Bruyn, I think you better have Dave’s head examined”.

Life in the “old school” was pretty straight forward. The insults, the slurs, it was all in a day’s work. The major attacks were dealt with right then and there. The minor attacks rolled of our backs like basting a turkey. It was all part of growing up, and it was all in fun. And now, a lifetime later, in the clear light of self-examination, I can say I was proud to be “Northport’s Bum” and proud to have Rob leading the chant, another fallen comrade in the architecture of life. Until then.