The 1920’s- by Lexi
I have always believed that I was born in the wrong generation. From the stories I’ve heard, the 1920’s was the age to live in. I love everything about that decade, everything was new, every one had a open mind about new ideas, new standards, the cities roared and the world just seemed to be one big party. It was the age of flappers and the beginning of Jazz music. Rona, my great grandma had been a flapper when she was younger and she always told fascinating and hilarious stories. I remember this time when I was four or five and I visited her. I was very excited to hear another story of hers. Whenever she told me stories it gave me a warm feeling inside, and I would always say to my parents “When I’m older, I want to have stories like great grandma Rona’s” they would always laugh in response. Now that I am the age that my great grandma was when she told me stories, I cant wait to tell my great grandchildren the stories that I have.
The last time I remember seeing my great grandma was around 2007. My family and I were going to visit her in her nursing home. On the way my sister and I would ways count the stop lights to pass time. I remember arriving at the nursing home. I ran all the way to her room only stopping to get a strawberry candy from the front desk and ask what room she is in. “Ms. Lewit is in room 20” the lady at the desk had replied. I was beyond happy that I got to see her that day. I ran so fast, that I passed her room and had to backtrack and find room 20. I burst into the room with a big smile on my face. She was sleeping, which is what she had done most of the time. I stole some chocolate from her sock drawer before I woke her and got one for my sister. I woke her up and her eyes opened very slowly. She turned her head and said “Sarah” she got out of her bed and gave me hug “Oh Sarah, you’ve grown” the door behind me opened as she said this. I turned around to see my family walking in. At the time, I had not wanted my family there because I wanted my great grandma all to myself, I remember feeling that so clearly. “Hello” my family hugged my great grandma. We all talked for a little bit until Rona said, “I have a story to tell you” my sister and I leaned toward her and waited in suspense for her to start.
“I was around 20, and girls as you know at this time I was considered a flapper. Drinking was also illegal, so the people who wanted to have a little bit of fun, would go to something called a speakeasy. At a speakeasy people would go, drink, and usually go home without getting caught. This night, was different. It was late at night, we were all drunk and we suddenly heard loud sirens and saw flashing lights. I heard someone call out ‘Its he fuzz! Lets go!’ I ran toward the bar and ducked down right as the police rammed through the door. I hoped they didn’t see me hiding behind the bar. I took a peek into the room and saw some getting arrested and other fleeing quickly out the door. I looked around and saw a door behind the bar. I slowly crept toward the door and then quickly opened it and ran out”
“Tell us more!” Rebecca, my older sister had said.
“Okay” said my great grandma. “Just give me one second, my memories aren’t as fresh as they used to be.”
“So, i’m outside, and i’m drunk, tired and I feel horrible. I started to run down the street in the direction I had thought my house was. After hours of searching for my house I still couldn’t find it, I had no idea what to do. I ended up calling some friends at a phone booth and they came to pick me up. Anyway girls, the lesson is you shouldn’t go to a speakeasy and hide behind a bar when the police come.”
“Very funny grandma” I said in a sarcastic tone, I was that age I tended to be very sarcastic about everything.
“It a very valuable lesson Sarah.” she said trying to act serious but still having a slight smile on her face.
“Yeah sure it is grandma” I smiled at her and chuckled a little bit.
After her story was over we chatted for awhile and eventually it was time to leave. We all said goodbye and hugged her. This was my favorite memory with her. Awhile after that visit she died, ever since then I have always kept a picture of her in my room to remind me of her at all times. Even today, in my nursing home in Scarsdale I still have the picture of her. I hear my great grandchildren running down the hall right now.
“Mom what room is great grandma Sarah in!?” I hear my youngest great grandchild say.
“I’m pretty sure she is in room 20” his mom replied. The door to my room opened and in came in my two great grandchildren and their parents.
“Hi grandma Sarah!” the older girl said.
“Hi Rona, Hi Jonas” I said to my great grandchildren. My child and her husband has named their daughter after my great grandma Rona, after a request from me. We all talked for a little bit until I said, “I have a story to tell you” Rona and Jonas leaned toward me and waited in suspense for me to start.