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Bramson’s Beach & Ballsy Banter

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By Bennett A. Bramson, MPA

Many of us have very lasting, hopefully fond memories, of the places we grew up and lived during our formative years.

Those who grew up with parents in the military often had to adjust to constant changes in environment, landscape, schools, friendships, and homes.

But, for my brother Seth Bramson, and me, we were fortunate to have had some level of stability because our father’s military career, having received two honorable discharges from two branches of the service, was concluded.

Though we endured the instability of our parents’ separation and divorce in the mid-50’s, at a time when divorce was the exception rather than the norm of today; when parents stayed together “for the sake of the kids,” we had the real benefit of living in the same home and neighborhood, in my case from the time I was born, until I was 30 years old.

Growing up on Miami Beach was such an incredible blessing because that Miami Beach will never be the same. Nothing can ever replicate the microcosm of growing up on Biscayne Point and the sense of community within a community which existed at that time.

We knew our fellow elementary school classmates from pre-school at Stillwater Park through 6th grade at Biscayne Elementary and along the way played together at the local parks which served the Biscayne Beach area: Crespi, Tatum, and North Shore.

When we expanded our horizons and attended Nautilus Junior High School in the mid-Beach area, a whole new vista opened to us.

But, on the Beach, those of us who were involved with the Nor-Isle Optimist football program, now developed a new inventory of friends from the South end of Miami Beach, though in retrospect, some of my lifelong friends such as Gerry Goldstein (aka Yackov Frack) had been acquaintances from early on in our days attending the City’s Recreation Department Honor Camp program(s).

My father had always ingrained in me a very simple philosophy: “Don’t ever start a fight, but if it comes to you and is unavoidable, then finish it QUICKLY.” That meant bullying was never acceptable but if bullies pushed you to the limit, then one swift punch would usually resolve the problem. Today, those kinds of simple issues between students are solved with guns and knives but that is fodder for another column.

On my first day of school at Nautilus, I arrived early (in keeping with my lifetime philosophy – “Early is ON TIME; on time is LATE; late is UNACCEPTABLE!”

I was the first student in line at the south entrance to the school, with my notebook, pens, papers and other junior high accoutrements in tow.

The volume of students increased, and the numbers became increasingly dense (as in large, not stupid). Suddenly the crowd parted and there appeared a Goliath-like man-boy who no one dared challenge or question. I had heard about him – his bullying was the stuff of legends and it was just my mazel (luck in Hebrew) to end up face-to-face with this student who was a twin, though I liken him to the worse of the two witches in the Wizard of Oz.

There were about five steps up to the top of the entryway and as he reached the top, he looked at me at said, “Out of the way little boy,” and he proceeded to push me off the steps where I fell to the ground and my belongings were scattered. I gathered my things (and my composure) and proceeded back to the top of the stairs.

There was an ominous sense of an impending clash as David and Goliath prepared to face off. I stepped back to my rightful place and boldly looked him in the eyes: “I was here first and don’t push me,” I commanded.

He was somewhat stunned for as legend had it, he had never been challenged, but he quickly regained his composure and said, “And, what are you going to do about it little man?” as he poked me hard in the chest.

I extended my arms out to the sides in a conciliatory gesture and said demurely in a somewhat meek, soft-spoken tone, “Nothing,” at the same time my right fist exploded squarely into his chin.

Like the tale of the diminutive Israelite and the giant Philistine, he went down like a ton of bricks (who would have ever known that he had a glass jaw), as he crumpled to the ground, out cold. At first, the initial gasp of the crowd was replaced by deafening silence to see what his response would be, and then the group burst out in enthusiastic applause, showing their unanimous approval for the action they had just witnessed.

In a minute or so, he regained consciousness and began crying, no maybe whimpering is a better description. I got down off the steps and helped him up and said, “If you treat people nicely, you’ll go a lot further in life.” I re-took my place at the top of the stairs and he quietly slithered to the back of the crowd.

Now some of my readers may be thinking, “what were the consequences of these dire actions?”

Later that morning, we were both escorted to the office to offer our individual stories of the scenario, along with a few other students who witnessed the event.

All confirmed the story exactly as I have described it here resulting in a suspension for Ronnie (who had a three-year history of transgressions) and an admonition to me to “please avoid future problems.” I simply responded that I didn’t come to school seeking problems, but my late Dad taught me to find resolutions quickly. My mother was never called.

I had established an aura of respect and Ronnie and I became friends (which lasted throughout the year and then into our years at Beach High).

From that time on, I had a reputation as someone you don’t mess with, but had earned a modicum of respect and it created the foundation for some of my many great friendships and relationships in junior and senior high school, most of which I look to proudly today as those still in my circle of friendship and trust.

This and other occurrences have reaffirmed my belief that treating people with respect and consideration first and foremost will return enormous benefits and I consider myself so very fortunate to have been a true “son of the Beach.”

These lasting memories are ones which made my early years on Miami Beach such an impacting influence on my life, attitude, and relationships…volumes of which I still embrace and hold dear to this day.

Here’s to bantering together…see you next week.

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