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Tickets were either five or ten cents each. There was no food or drink sold in the neighborhood theaters when I was five years old, but there usually was a confectionery store nearby where you could purchase a generous amount of candy for a nickel. What could be more satisfying than your sweet-tooth treat as you sat patiently through the news, laughed aloud at the cartoons, and intently watched the main attraction and the important cliffhanger that made you want to return the following week?
I walked along with my two older brothers, who were threatened with horrible punishment if they neglected to take good care of their little sister. It wasnt my fault that on the way I managed, God only knows how, to swallow a fairly large buzzing fly. I screamed as it tickled my throat, its wings beating in protest. Finally it slid down. I wanted to go home to tell my mother what had happened but my brothers didnt want to do that. They were thoughtful enough to assure me that flies were not bad and actually were good for you as long as you didnt consume too many. Little Bernice swallowed that bull along with the fly.
We entered the large, imposing building of our weekend retreat and found seats. I sat between Arnold and Howard as always. Mom said that was the safest way. But what happened if I needed to visit the bathroom? They couldnt take me. My mother told me I could go if it was an emergency and we would have to ask a lady or older girl whom we knew to take me. I realize now that on Saturdays I was given very few fluids until I got home. Then I was urged to drink a lot to help the dehydration Id been subjected to.
We were surrounded by familiar, friendly faces. I waved to my neighbors. We were all in a jovial mood, anticipating a wonderful afternoon. There was chatter and laughter. Occasionally an usher would come around to shush people and to warn us wed have to leave if we couldnt behave. To me, an usher was like a policeman. I didnt dare misbehave.
I loved that time at the movies. We had one bag of candy, which we shared. I was happy and engrossed in a funny Charlie Chaplain film. Suddenly something hard hit my chest. I was frightened. I poked Arnold and asked him if I was bleeding. I told him maybe someone shot me.
He whispered, Are you crazy? What are you talking about?
I felt around: no blood. Then my shaky fingers fished out an object. Even in the dark, from the size and shape I could tell it was a 50-cent piece. It probably had fallen from the balcony above us, and to me it was a real windfall. I did feel sorry for the person who lost it, though.
I asked my brothers if I should call out, Did anyone lose fifty cents?
They told me Dont you dare; everyone will say they did.
We just had to keep it and without guilt.
After hours of being entertained, we headed for home, but first we stopped at the little store. My brothers had convinced me that I should share my fortune with them. After all, they brought me each week.
We were able to get three large bags of our favorite penny candy. We walked along, partaking of the goodies. I chewed a couple of the chocolate covered caramels that I favored, which was probably one of the reasons I had trouble with my gums years later.
I left a generous portion for my parents. My brothers ate all of theirs. My parents became angry with them because they had very little appetite for the tasty meal my mom had prepared, and they were properly punished, but my mother and father praised their little darling for being kind and willing to share.
Bernice Becker
