The First Time I Got Lucky

Once upon a time, a very young Hag frequented many amusement parks in the New York City/New Jersey area. Her father always worked long hours, seven days a week, but in his off-time ~ Saturday mornings ~ he would gather up his brood and tote them off for a day filled with rides, arcade games, candy apples, cotton candy, hot dogs and lemonade. And there would be much rejoicing.

On many occasions, Coney Island would be the park of choice. This had become one of the little Hag’s favorite outings. In retrospect, she got the biggest thrill out of strolling along the boardwalk and looking out over the ocean, enjoying the smell and taste of salt in the air while watching all the noisy rides twist, turn and spin around her.

Coney Island is a small peninsula off the southernmost tip of Brooklyn. Back in the 18th and 19th centuries, it was barren and overrun with rabbits. It came to be called “Coney Island” when the Dutch came along bearing konyns (Dutch for house-rabbit), leaving them to run freely on the little peninsula.

The konyns apparently “loved each other” very, very much because eventually, they produced hundreds and hundreds of baby konyns, which produced hundreds and hundreds more. The place was dubbed Konyn Eilint, which later evolved to its current English title - but enough about history.

In the early 1960s, a family could pay one price and enjoy the amusement park all day long. A circular ticket was issued to each family member, and each time anyone went on a ride, a hole was punched along the outer rim of the ticket. In the center, there was a six-digit number. At some point during the day, if you happened to be in Steeplechase Park (an old section of Coney Island featuring indoor and outdoor rides), two numbers were called out over a loud speaker. The winners received a special prize for the day.

And so on this special day, the little white haired Haglet rode the rides, ate the fun foods and roamed about with her sisters; not a care in the world. Big sister, Janet was asked to keep a watchful eye on her so that the others could enjoy the “big people” rides, and Janet decided to walk the little one indoors at Steeplechase to see what all the commotion was about. Up on a stage, standing at a podium, a man was talking loudly into a screechy microphone.

It was prize-time! “Yay” said the Hag as she jumped up and down, fairly clueless and unable to see a flipping thing for all the big people around her. Janet grabbed the little one’s ticket and carefully read the numbers as they were being called out. “Nope, we didn’t win,” she said.

But wait! There was yet another prize to be issued!

Suddenly, Janet jumped up quickly and grabbed the Haglet’s hand, “You won … you won!”

“Yayyyy” the Haglet cried out loudly. She was hauled through the crowd of hundreds of people and dragged up to the stage. She was a tad embarrassed by all the attention, still something inside told her this was a good thing indeed. She liked to win. (She still does)

After careful checking of the numbers, the man awarded the prize to the young Hag and again, there was great glee and much rejoicing!

Alas, it was apparently meant to be that the little Hag was awarded a larger than life, boys bicycle. She couldn’t even hold the thing up let alone ride it! Still, she won, and all was good and right with her world.

Lugging the prize all the way home to Staten Island hadn’t been part of her father’s plan, still he did so, tying it up in the trunk of the old Chevy Belair. The trip home seemed endless, but when they finally arrived, the bike was placed carefully on the front porch for the Haglet to admire.

The nice men at Coney Island were kind enough to offer a trade-in for an identical, girl’s version of the bike… but there would be a weeklong wait for the trade to take place. It didn’t matter to the little winner because she wouldn’t be riding it for at least a year. It was enough to sit and stare at it, play with the headlight and bell, and plan her first neighborhood journey.

Certain sisters became outraged that they weren’t permitted to use the shiny new bicycle ~ but this felt fair to the Haglet because all of her life thus far, she’d been wearing hand-me-down clothes and playing with dolls whose hair had long-ago fallen out. Secretly, she thought to herself on several THOUSAND occasions in sing-song style, “Haha on you guys, it’s MINE, all MINE.”

It hadn’t always been easy being the youngest of four girls.

Eventually, the new bicycle arrived (handlebar streamers and all) and within a year or so, it could finally be ridden. “Yayyy” said the little winner.

Every now and again, someone will talk, write or reminisce about Coney Island. Some people recall the tasty Nathan’s hotdogs, some recall the incredible crowds at the beach, some ~ the crazy and exciting rides (parachute jump and boxcar Ferris wheel), but in the time-worn heart of a modern day Hag, Coney Island will always hold a particularly special place. It was the first time she really got lucky.

The End.

*first photo taken in '59 - a few years prior to the event

*second photo is not actual bicycle - Googled photo image of '61 Schwinn