Jul 2015
(Corpus Christi, Texas-circa 1947)
It's a short block, a cul-de-sac,
total of sixteen houses lining the street.
No sidewalks, the grass ends
where the curb begins.
A lone palm tree stands in the southwest corner of the front yard.
There were no fences separating the properties
Driveways, leading to the separated garages were the markers.
That didn't stop us, however-
The neighborhood was a continuous playground.
Many families were military-
in the U S Navy,
Or civil service employees
at the Corpus Christi Naval Air Station
From those sixteen homes were twenty-three children-
some families had multiple children-
ranging from four to twelve..............I was six years old-
For the parents, finding peace and quiet
was only a dream
I learned to ride a bike on that street-
although learning how to stop it
was another issue.........
Had it not been for that lone palm tree.
I became very adept at timing-
knowing when to jump off that bike-
moments before impact-
Eventually, I learned what dad meant with
"USE THE BRAKES!"
A few bruises
some scrapes(arm or knee)
Nothing serious-
I survived!
As our parents aged, they often would reminisce about those days. Dad had two major philosophies about growing up: "Yards were made for kids to play in", and "If we can hear them, at least we know where they are!" Most of the time they were in our backyard playing on our swing and trapeze set that a family friend built for me and my brother. That yard was, basically, a "miniature park."
Our mother was, what is termed now, a "stay at home mom." She was the "overseer, watchdog, and resident medic." At least two or three times a day, she answered the phone, only to hear another mother's voice asking if their kid was over there, and if so, tell him, or her, to go home.
While reminiscing, the one thing that our father, mother, and my brother agreed on is, "That was one hell of a sturdy bike!" I never will forget that palm tree. It saved my a_ _ more than once!!
Society has changed, Donna, you're absolutely right!!
copyright: richard riddle July 20, 2015
revised: July 21, 2015
It's a short block, a cul-de-sac,
total of sixteen houses lining the street.
No sidewalks, the grass ends
where the curb begins.
A lone palm tree stands in the southwest corner of the front yard.
There were no fences separating the properties
Driveways, leading to the separated garages were the markers.
That didn't stop us, however-
The neighborhood was a continuous playground.
Many families were military-
in the U S Navy,
Or civil service employees
at the Corpus Christi Naval Air Station
From those sixteen homes were twenty-three children-
some families had multiple children-
ranging from four to twelve..............I was six years old-
For the parents, finding peace and quiet
was only a dream
I learned to ride a bike on that street-
although learning how to stop it
was another issue.........
Had it not been for that lone palm tree.
I became very adept at timing-
knowing when to jump off that bike-
moments before impact-
Eventually, I learned what dad meant with
"USE THE BRAKES!"
A few bruises
some scrapes(arm or knee)
Nothing serious-
I survived!
As our parents aged, they often would reminisce about those days. Dad had two major philosophies about growing up: "Yards were made for kids to play in", and "If we can hear them, at least we know where they are!" Most of the time they were in our backyard playing on our swing and trapeze set that a family friend built for me and my brother. That yard was, basically, a "miniature park."
Our mother was, what is termed now, a "stay at home mom." She was the "overseer, watchdog, and resident medic." At least two or three times a day, she answered the phone, only to hear another mother's voice asking if their kid was over there, and if so, tell him, or her, to go home.
While reminiscing, the one thing that our father, mother, and my brother agreed on is, "That was one hell of a sturdy bike!" I never will forget that palm tree. It saved my a_ _ more than once!!
Society has changed, Donna, you're absolutely right!!
copyright: richard riddle July 20, 2015
revised: July 21, 2015
