spoke English. Although the language was different we somehow all understood each other. One of my favorite things to do with Pop was to learn Italian. He taught me lots of cool Italian curse words and accompanying hand gestures that I used on my classmates when I was at school. However, when I think about it now, the most important thing that Pop taught me was to open my eyes and observe the world around me. Hewould notice details in almost anything he saw. There was a large willow tree across the porch where we sat. Most people, as they walked by, only saw a tree or perhaps didnât notice it was there at all. Pop, on the other hand, would make that tree a metaphor about almost anything you wanted to know about life. He would compare its leaves to a personâs life. Things like that. We would sit out there day after day and even though we didnât speak the same language Pop taught me how to âsee.â In later years, as an actor and a writer, this skill was essential in creating a character. Now, my uncle Marty, on the other hand, wasnât always thrilled to have me bobbing around the place. I was always âunder footâ doing some sort of mischief. He was always patient with me and sometimes he even let me help him.
My Uncle Marty always had been a very creative type guy who was a painter, (the canvass kind) window decorator and inventor. He often would spend hours in his workshop working on all sorts of inventions. I think the one he was most proud of was a portable toothbrush that had toothpaste already in it. It was about the size of a pen and you could put it in your jacket pocket and (if you wanted) brush your teeth almost anywhere. There is a family story that as a young man in the 1930âs, my uncle received a letter from a young filmmaker in Hollywood. This filmmaker had seen his drawings and invited him to move out to the west coast to become part of a new film company. The letter was from Walt Disney and my uncle wanted to go but couldnât because he had to work to help support the family during the Great Depression. The last time I visited him, over twenty-five years ago, he still had the letter framed on the wall in his kitchen. For my Uncle Marty, this wonderful story remained a dream deferred. He did manage to utilize his talent by becoming a window design decorator by trade. He would work freelance and decorate the display windows of clothing stores all over New York City. Saying he was creative was a sort of understatement. Once, I saw him take a large wooden packing crate sitting in the garbage on a New York City street and several minutes later (with a little paint added to it) put it in the store window of a high-end boutique and magically made it all work. I thought to myself, that he was able to take a piece of garbage and turn it into a work or art. I never forgot that. He was also an enthusiastic movie fan who collected full-length movies, animation and cinema memorabilia. He was so enamored by movies and Hollywood that he built an actual movie theatre called the Bijou in his basement. The theatre that was modeled after the original Bijou in New York City was a much smaller version of the original. It was designed in a refined Louis XVI style inside, featuring color scheme of blue, ivory and gold. But, in the eyes of a five year old, it was much more than that.
Now when I say movie theatre, I mean the works. The theatre had a marquee, a colorful lobby and real velvet theatre seating and a large white movie screen framed by a crimson velvet curtain. The walls were lined with vintage movie posters and one wall, as I remember, (in the Cambria Heights house) had two stuffed alligators mounted on it. I never figured out why there were stuffed alligators in a movie theatre but I remember being concerned that at one point when the lights went off that those two alligators would wake up and start chasing me. In another corner, there was a pool table and an old style neon lit
My Uncle Marty always had been a very creative type guy who was a painter, (the canvass kind) window decorator and inventor. He often would spend hours in his workshop working on all sorts of inventions. I think the one he was most proud of was a portable toothbrush that had toothpaste already in it. It was about the size of a pen and you could put it in your jacket pocket and (if you wanted) brush your teeth almost anywhere. There is a family story that as a young man in the 1930âs, my uncle received a letter from a young filmmaker in Hollywood. This filmmaker had seen his drawings and invited him to move out to the west coast to become part of a new film company. The letter was from Walt Disney and my uncle wanted to go but couldnât because he had to work to help support the family during the Great Depression. The last time I visited him, over twenty-five years ago, he still had the letter framed on the wall in his kitchen. For my Uncle Marty, this wonderful story remained a dream deferred. He did manage to utilize his talent by becoming a window design decorator by trade. He would work freelance and decorate the display windows of clothing stores all over New York City. Saying he was creative was a sort of understatement. Once, I saw him take a large wooden packing crate sitting in the garbage on a New York City street and several minutes later (with a little paint added to it) put it in the store window of a high-end boutique and magically made it all work. I thought to myself, that he was able to take a piece of garbage and turn it into a work or art. I never forgot that. He was also an enthusiastic movie fan who collected full-length movies, animation and cinema memorabilia. He was so enamored by movies and Hollywood that he built an actual movie theatre called the Bijou in his basement. The theatre that was modeled after the original Bijou in New York City was a much smaller version of the original. It was designed in a refined Louis XVI style inside, featuring color scheme of blue, ivory and gold. But, in the eyes of a five year old, it was much more than that.
Now when I say movie theatre, I mean the works. The theatre had a marquee, a colorful lobby and real velvet theatre seating and a large white movie screen framed by a crimson velvet curtain. The walls were lined with vintage movie posters and one wall, as I remember, (in the Cambria Heights house) had two stuffed alligators mounted on it. I never figured out why there were stuffed alligators in a movie theatre but I remember being concerned that at one point when the lights went off that those two alligators would wake up and start chasing me. In another corner, there was a pool table and an old style neon lit
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