I was born in New York City in 1928. My father had flown airplanes made of canvas and sticks in WWl, in France, while my mother had sung and danced in vaudeville. Everything was fine until the Crash of 29. What I recall is a series of one-bedroom apartments and hard times, but my older sister and I had no complaints since this was simply the way things were, and many were worse off than we were, some of whom we occasionally took in for a week or two. People shared more...
