One of my earliest memories, possibly my first, is being at the 1964-65 World’s Fair with my parents in Corona Park, Queens. (The irony of the location’s name during the “Coronavirus” pandemic has not been lost on me.) I was barely two years old. It was a bright, sunny, cool morning. I was holding my parents’ hands, happy to be back at the fair again after a long wait. (The fair closed in October of 1964 and didn’t re-open until April of 1965.) I was looking up at the Unisphere, which I loved, and which I had told my parents I wanted to see again. So the memory is extraordinary because it includes not only the visual memory itself, but also the mental memory of previous trips to the fairgrounds in 1964, when I had not yet turned two years of age. As I gazed up lovingly at it, the sun glinting on its molded sculptures of the world’s continents, I was filled with pure joy and contentment, finally seeing my friend again. This “world view” of a two year old succinctly demonstrates one of the greatest gifts of growing up in New York — the awareness that there is a great big world out there with places to visit, people to meet, and experiences to be had — far beyond the world in which you live. I may have led a sheltered life in a lovely apartment filled with typical toys of that era — stuffed animals, dolls and Fischer Price pull-toys, but ever since I can remember, I was surrounded with the smells, sights, and sounds of the City that were far beyond the scope of daily life in our apartment. And I was filled with an awareness that this was a wonderful thing — which it is. Somehow, my two-year old brain was processing this information as I looked up at this great big globe. And lest you think I’m making this up — here is a picture of a mini-me at the fair, in my little frock, with my well-dressed Mother (oh for the days when one got dressed up for occasions!). I know you may be thinking “She just remembers this because she’s seen this photo.” I grant you that looking at this picture over the years may have helped preserve my own recollections, solidifying them in the deep recesses of my mind, but my memory is from a completely different perspective — from underneath the Unisphere — looking up at it from below with a sense of excitement and wonder. The world was out there to explore — but for the moment I was simply a happy little girl going to a fair, held lovingly by my parents and imagining what that world held in store.
