A number of years ago, I attended a grandparents’ event at Our Lady of the Hamptons School in Southampton. I had my back to an empty seat at the table, but when a break came I shifted in my seat, only to realize that the empty seat was now occupied. I apologized and we began chatting.
Quickly, our conversation zoomed in on Brooklyn, particularly the neighborhoods of Park Slope and Brooklyn Heights. We were both familiar with them, although I think he was more of a Brooklyn Heights man and I had spent a number of years in Park Slope during the 1960s and 1970s.
During my time in that neighborhood, exciting change was all around. Artists and writers had begun moving in, and there was a young, hip vibe developing. I recalled the days aloud to my seatmate. To get into the supermarket, I spoke of having to pass through a gauntlet of tables run by locals espousing a variety of causes. Mothers against the War. Boycott Grapes. Boycott Nestlé. Support the Park Slope Food Co-op. Sign a petition for this. Sign a petition against that. It was both annoying and exhilarating at the same time. I loved Park Slope.
The gentleman, as yet we had not introduced ourselves, was nodding in recognition.
Finally, the event was ending. I expressed my delight in meeting him. He said the same and added, “My name is Jules Feiffer.”
Jules Feiffer? I tried to act a bit sophisticated but nearly fell over.
“Jules Feiffer?” I sputtered, as I began hyperventilating. He laughed and said he mentioned his last name because he suspected I would recognize it.
Recognize it? The clever and witty satirist and cartoonist I followed faithfully in The Village Voice? The man who played such a pivotal role during a time of great societal change? Hippies. The Vietnam War. Women’s Rights. Civil Rights. If he were wearing a ring, I think I would have kissed it.
Meeting Jules Feiffer meant a lot to me. It was a happy moment in time now flooding me with memories of days when we thought we could change the world, boycott by boycott and petition by petition.
I am saddened to hear of his passing [“Cartoonist Jules Feiffer, an East End Fixture, Dies at 95,” 27east.com, January 22], yet I am grateful to him for the role he played in so many lives, least of all mine. May he rest in peace.
Marion Boden
Hampton Bays
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