Such a little front yard. Nana says that as an obese infant I sat on the grass for several hours, trying to figure out whether I wanted to actually touch the grass. Leap forward. Scott and I, kicking a volleyball at each other. (Volleyballs are amazing for kicking, even though accountants and purists insist that kicking wrecks the volleyball. I wonder. Did I grow up to be an accountant?) Scott taught me to be good, both at shooting and goal. But why, whenever I made a great save, did he have to keep saying that the Gumper was hot tonight?!
Here's the Gumper, by the way:
See what I mean?
Also, there was that time when Scott threw me a football, which I caught, at the same moment that he tackled me right in the knees, right from the front. My knees then went backwards, and lo I was crippled. I seem to recall he thought that was funny. Still, always, a perfect brother.
Another photo!
This is the back. That window that you can't quite see is to the bedroom room that Scott and I shared. That's right: the dirty underwear game. Also that portable radio with the padded fake-leather back. Our family was the Beatles, but I am hearing "A Boy Named Sue."
Just outside, of course, the aforementioned rumpus room. Also, between the two, steps down into the dark basement. "Spook Alley," someone called it. Not quite scary. Exhilarating, rather. I think we remember this correctly. You could go down there, and then climb all the way up to the upstairs bathroom, right beneath the tub.
Further. Yes, it's at the top of the way-basement stairs where the incident with the kick, the wooden block, and Susan's blood-pouring forehead happened. Sometimes the snow was so high that we could easily climb up on the garage roof. We'd piled up the snow that lay underneath, and then jump and jump. Dad built a two level wooden playhouse/fort, on the left there. This was summertime. Once I was standing on that roof. And fell off. On my head. Then I got up, and ran off. Probably a twelve foot fall. Angels, probably.
Speaking of which, I lost a ball back here. I asked Mum to help me find it. She helped, and also suggested I say a prayer. I did, and then walked right to it. Then ran off.
What's that noise, coming out of that box? Off comes the lid. Cookie the dog! "One-two-three-let 'er go!" Little green plastic soldiers carefully arranged and hidden in the sand box, and in the grass around, and in the flowerbed and the bushes. Scott, Susan, me, on one side or the other, throwing rocks and marbles until we killed them all.
See this innocuous object?
It's a telephone pole, just behind the house. I am pretty sure that it got all frosted, one very cold winter morning. I am pretty sure that I thought it would be nice, popsicle-like maybe, to give the pole a lick. Then, the whirlwind.
This is my kindergarten, or at least the Methodist Church where my kindergarten was conducted:
Yes, I remember taking nice naps there. I remember a cool craft where you weaved colourful pieces of construction paper together. I would soon come to dislike this kind of thing a lot. It was the advent of glue, I think, and the messes that came with it. Also, the realization that things don't turn out really nicely without a ton of effort. And even with a ton of effort! Laziness? Maybe, but not at all completely. At the time I think I was actually worrying about the 2nd Law of Thermodynamics.
I also actually do remember my imaginary friend, Johnny Bathtub. He and I actually attended this kindergarten together.
Confirmed! Nana remembers that she did sometimes send me out the back door of our Meadowlark House, through the gate and into the back alley. From there I walked to kindergarten, all by myself. And survived! I still remember, still feel the elation when I discovered this secret passage:
Maybe it wasn't so secret after all. But it did introduce me to the concept of short-cuts, which I have earnestly sought ever since.
