saturday

11. July 2009 · Comments Off · Categories: Eric's Life, Our Life Together, Ramblings

Well, there’s still nothing happening on the job front.  There’s a tiny little ripple… we’ll see.

Scott and I had a great time at his family reunion last week.  I had hoped to blog about it while there but really there wasn’t much time.  The Hays Family Reunion differs from my own family reunions in that at the HFR, a room is reserved, generally a meeting type space, for everyone to gather.  And about 7:30 a.m. that’s just what the family does… they gather in the room, drink coffee, and chat.  They get caught up with each others lives.  About noon, we all mosey on up to the hotel’s restaurant for lunch, then afterwards stroll back down to the meeting room.

Little units drift off to one of the attractions Branson has to offer, but the core family stays in the meeting room, little circles forming at this table or that.  Conversation continues over a game of dominoes… or wahoo… or a puzzle… or a card game.  Or any of a number of different games.  We sit and chat.

Then around 5 different groups break off and go find dinner somewhere.  By 6:30 or 7 we’re all back together, chatting.  Playing.  This goes on for 2 days.  Towards the end of Saturday, we do pictures.  Pictures of each family.

The Hays Family Reunion is made up of the descendants of Merle & Ethel (Drumgoole) Hays.  There are 8 siblings remaining, children of Merle & Ethel.  These 8 siblings, along with their children and grand-children… and yes great grand-children are who make up the HFR.

So, on Saturday night, we take 9 pictures.  One picture of the 8 siblings, and one each of the families of each of the 8 children.  Did I say 9 pictures?  Well, what really happens is a bank of cameras take pictures.  So you generally have to sit for a photo while up to 20 photographers each take 3 or 4 pictures!  This year, Scott’s mother, Louise… Barb… (her name is Barbara Louise, and you’ll find folks at the reunion calling her either of those names) or Mudder as most of her family call her, asked me to join in the family picture.  Yay!  She said there were two reasons… one was that she’d looked back at all the pictures from the previous 10 years and realized I wasn’t in any of the pictures, and she figured it was wrong.  And the second reason?  Well… just as she was about to tell me, someone came along and interrupted, and I never did learn what it was!

On Sundays, family units start heading home.  The morning gathering has bout 2/3s of the family… then, little by little, the number goes down.  We have lunch, more people leave.  By mid-afternoon, there’s maybe 3 of the siblings, and their families still gathered.  By night, it was Scott and I, Mudder & Pops, Terry, Eleanor and Bethany, and oh-oh… Virgil and Alice, that’s right.

Terry’s a strange creature… she’s Bruce’s wife.  She was driver for Mudder & Pops and the girls.  At midnight we all went to bed.  At 2 a.m., she loaded up her charges and they all headed for Alamogordo.  Scott and I slept until 6, then loaded up and headed home.

I started off this post to tell what I’ve been doing this week, not about the reunion!  Frankly, the reunion is more interesting.

Just before leaving for the reunion, I bought a new trimmer for the yard.  So this week, I mowed the front yard.  Then I ran the trimmer around it.  It’s an electric trimmer, battery powered.  Came with two batteries.  One charger.

All the basic trimming got done Tuesday.  But, I’ve been putting in 2 hours a day of work on the front yard… that’s how long it takes to deplete the power in the two batteries, and in me.  Those who have seen my house may… or may not… remember that my driveway and front sidewalk has cracks in them.  And through those cracks grow weeds.  Pulling those weeds can be a daunting job… Scott and I once spent nearly 10 hours pulling them, and by the end of the day my fingers and his were raw and bleeding from abrading against the concrete.  Consequently, we don’t do it often… a mistake, I know.

So this week, for two hours a day, I’ve hacked away at those weeds with the trimmer until the batteries are too feeble to do anything but blow the leaves of the weeds around.  I have one stretch of sidewalk left to do… about 8 feet in all.  One 2 hour day’s work.  And then what?

I’ll do it again.  But first, we’ll be applying poison to the cracks.  And when stuff is dead, we’ll seal those cracks with tar.  Or something.  And then what?

It’ll be time for the back yard…. screeeeeeeech!  wait, I forgot!

After this weekend, I’ll be taking on the scraping of the front of the house… well, the trim anyhow.  I want to repaint the trim on the front of the house this coming week… it badly needs it.

Actually the whole house needs a paint job.  Just before they put it on the market, the previous owners spray painted the house a dusty blue.  I loved the color.  But, they used cheap paint.  Over the decade we’ve owned the house, the paint has faded, and washed away a bit, and now the house is dusty blue with the white underlayer showing through in many places.  But they ain’t no muny to buy house paint, so it’ll have to wait.  But the trim just can’t!

Dad wants to come over and help.  So, after an emergency dentist visit on Monday, I think that may just be what we do!

Toodles, all!

clm stuff

05. May 2009 · 2 comments · Categories: Eric's Life, Spirituality

One of the things I’ve heard over and over… and it’s generally a truism… is that we shouldn’t let what others think of us worry us.

And yet, I think it’s pretty obvious that is easier said than done!  For better or worse, unless one is willing to completely disengage from the world, what others think about us does influence us and does impact us.  This came home to me this week as part of our latest assignments in “Creating a Life that Matters”, the class that Scott and I are taking through our Church.

As part of the homework last week, we were asked to consider every person in our class, and to write down two words for each of them.  The first word was to be an emotion that the individual invokes in us when we see them.  The second word was to be an essence or quality that the individual brings to our community or our church.

In class last night, we wrote these words down on a sticky note, and then attached that sticky to a sheet of paper for each individual so that they could see these words… though not necessarily who put those words down.  And so, I got to see what others think of me.  In a way, it was an eye opener!

Now first of all, some of the emotion “words” aren’t really “emotions”, as such.  But they are all feeling words.

The emotions I elicit in others are: confidence, tranquility, good, friendship/family/love, awakened, knowledge joy, happy, serious & gentle.  In addition, two individuals said hesitance, hesitation.  Those last two really threw me off!  To be quite honest, they effected me enough that I was unable to complete the remainder of the exercise!  But I think it’s probably true.  There are times I arrive at church, and my “shields” are completely down, I’m approachable, and outgoing.  Other times, those “shields” are at maximum… a proton torpedo could never penetrate!  I’m not really sure what to do about that.  Some days I feel in a very friendly, outgoing, even “pranksterish” mood.  Other days, I’m serious and withdrawn.  My own emotions are pretty much a badge on my sleeve.  People can see very much where I am.  But folks might not really “see” that badge until we actually interact.  The fact of the matter is, when I’m in the "outgoing” mood, I welcome people to jump in and join with me!  And even more important, when I’m in the serious/withdrawn mood, what I really would welcome is for people NOT to honor that mood, but to just challenge me on my behavior… again, I know that’s easier said than done!

The qualities that people feel I bring to our church and community really kind of surprised me, but for some reason, I really don’t have any problem “owning” them!  I may disagree with some, but I can see how/why others might see these in me.  Spirituality (3 people), intelligence (2), knowledge (2), strength, listening, faith, authenticity, enlightenment.  I wonder if the “authenticity” isn’t tied in with the “hesitancy” issue.  I seldom, if ever, hide myself from others.  When I’m in a bad mood, I don’t hide it!  I feel no desire at church to pretend to be what someone else thinks I should be as a Christian or as anything else.  I am, ultimately, who I am.  Others need to accept that or get out of my way!  When I feel something, when I experience something, I will express that.  Sometimes, later, I’ll come back and apologize for that… if I truly feel an apology is warranted.  Though, I do think I have learned, by and large, to try to avoid hurting others in my “in-your-face-ness”.  Sometimes, I just don’t succeed!

There’s a lot of good in those qualities.  And in fact, there’s a lot of good in the emotions I elicit in others.  I think, as I evaluate them all, I can “own” all of them!  And, knowing the two “negatives”, if negative they are, and to the degree that they ARE negative, is good, too.  Without sacrificing my “authenticity”, I can strive to help others feel less “hesitant”.

At least, I hope I can!

not a flash in the pan

29. April 2009 · 2 comments · Categories: Eric's Life, Stayings at home

Scott and I just got back from having dinner with Dad.  It was nice, we ate at Fernandos, a rather 3rd rate Mexican restaurant in West Omaha.  But the waiter was nice and the food wasn’t terrible.  Just too high priced for the quality.  Unfortunately, down in South O there are far better ones that provide much better fare!

I was kind of wondering going in to dinner whether Dad’s interest in Scott’s and my wedding was just one of those things that came up and would soon be forgotten.  But no.  Dad kept asking questions about it.  When were we going to do it?  Are we doing it tomorrow… which in and of itself is quite interesting.  Monday, April 27th was the first day we could apply for a marriage license.  But tomorrow, April 30 is actually the first day we can get married (unless we’d applied for a waiver.)  It was just really interesting that Dad is following all this so closely in the news that he is aware of the timelines.

Next he wanted to know if, after I made Scott my wife, if he’d take my name!  LOL.  Anyhow, I said no, we were going to hyphenate our names… he thought that was pretty good.

Now, that was pretty much the repertoire for Dad.  When are we getting married? What are we going to do about our names?  Oh, and what are we going to wear.  If you know Dad, he has his little repertoire that he almost seems to have prepared in advance.  When we get together, he’ll start in on his questions, and after a couple of minutes, he’ll start over.  So we’ll have variations on the exact same conversation several times for the evening.

In this case it was about Scott and my marriage… a marriage that we’re having primarily because, well, Dad wants to attend it!

In other news on the Dad-front, I got a call this morning from New Cassel.  They wanted to tell me “the whole story” so that if he started in to tell me it, I wouldn’t become concerned… Now that’s a sure fired way to start telling me something guaranteed to get me concerned!

It seems that two gentlement had gone to breakfast this morning, and had just gotten in line when the fire alarm went off.  It was a scheduled fire drill, nothing to be worried about.  After the all clear these two gentlemen returned to the dining room for breakfast, and had to wait in the lobby for the dining room to reopen.  These two gentlemen are a bit slow-moving.  When the doors finally opened, they started their journey towards the door, when Dad, a much faster walking individual came along, and popped in front of them.

One of the gentlemen took umbrage at this tactic of Dad’s, and grabbed Dad’s arm.  A verbal altercation ensued, and the other gentleman shoved Dad.  Dad’s hand was cut and a bit bruised.  But in the process the other gentleman was knocked to the ground (not be Dad but as a result of his own shoving of Dad.)  Dad, being the “wonderful gentleman that he is” (the words of the New Cassel staff) Dad attempted to assist the other man to his feet, but was rebuffed.  Dad was then taken to the health clinic to have his cut cleansed and bandaged.

The staff assured me that in no way did they consider Dad to be at fault.  The other man’s family was called, and they and the man were told in no uncertain terms that the shoving match was not the way to handle conflict.

All in all, it was kind of funny to me… in particular because they weren’t too upset by it either.  In fact the staff person who called me actually kind of chuckled while telling me.

And that is that!

my what a day

27. April 2009 · Comments Off · Categories: Eric's Life, Stayings at home

Today started off innocuously enough.  Our typical morning routine: get up, watch the news, watch a little of one of the saved programs, get showered.

Then, we began to deviate from our schedule a bit.  Instead of Scott heading off to work, we drove down to the courthouse and applied for a marriage license!  The press was there, and we were interviewed by several stations and papers.  In the midst of it all, we were called and interviewed by Voice of America.  We met a few old friends we’d not seen in a long while.  The process of applying for the license went quickly, and before we knew it, we were done… only to be interviewed a couple of more times.

After dropping me off at the house, Scott left for work.  I settled in to watch morning news, and web surf… and to begin preparations for tonight’s CLM class at church.

And then it happened.  Screeching tires.  A THUD! Painful yelping.

I ran outside to see what had happened, to see a Rottweiler limping up the drive across from us.  I went over to see if I could help.  The family has about 5 kids.  Mom is off at work.  Dad is home, unable to work or lift anything due to injuries.  The dog was bleeding badly but just the sweetest little boy. (Ha! If a hundred pound Rotty can be said to be little!)

There was no way they were going to be able to get the dog to a vet.  So, I had two of the older boys load the dog into our truck, and with the father’s blessing drove them all up to our vet.  I really expected the worst.  But, doggy is going to have two teeth pulled, it’s tongue stitched up (it bit a huge chunk of it’s tongue off and that’s where all the blood was coming from.) And it may have a broken leg.

The family just isn’t going to be able to afford the costs of this treatment, and CB doesn’t have a place that would give the dog a chance.  So I guaranteed treatment up to a grand.  After taking the boys home, I told the father and he visibly paled.  I told him “Don’t worry about it.  You guys help us out in whatever way you can.  We won’t expect full reimbursement.”

I feel good about what I did.  I told God two things: “No dog is going to suffer on MY watch!” and “Now you BETTER get me that job!”

weekly clm assignment

20. April 2009 · Comments Off · Categories: Eric's Life, Spirituality

This is my “homework” for week two of “Rediscovering Relationship with Self”.

Reflect and Journal about an experience when you worked in a spiritual gift area that is one of your LOWEST scored areas.  What did it feel like to work in that arena? Was it frustrating to try to arrive at a successful outcome?

Last week, part of our assignment was to take a “Spirituality Inventory”, which addressed 25 “spiritual gifts”.  The highest score possible for a gift was a 15.  The lowest possible score was a big fat 0.  On eight of the gifts, I scored a 6 or less.  The lowest scoring gifts for me were celibacy and tongues which each scored ZERO. I got a 2 in healing, and a 4 in hospitality.  Other areas in which I received low scores are:  Apostle, Mercy, Multi-Cultural Ministry, and Prophetic Teaching.

So… I’m trying to remember EVER working in one of those areas! 

I suppose I can recall two experiences/jobs working in areas for which I had a low score.  But as I address these here, I have to begin with the observation that there are numerous things that impact these spirituality inventories.  I’ve been taking them for over 20 years.  Spiritual Gifts change.  Or at least some of them do.  Some gifts may remain high throughout our life; some gifts may be given us by God at a particular time to accomplish a particular thing.  For everything there is a season…  Furthermore, moods that we are in can impact our answers.  As can emotional states.  And, frankly, most questions in these inventories have an implied answer if one knows where to look.

For instance, twenty years ago, taking one of these inventories I would have answered that celibacy was relatively high in the scorings.  I wanted to be accepted to seminary; I wanted to be a priest; I wanted to run/hide from my own knowledge of who and what I am; and I believed what I was told about being Gay being hated by God. 

And so, I spent two years “working in a spiritual gift area” that was, at the time scoring high, but in reality, looking back over my life, about as low scoring as you can get!  Was it frustrating?  Oh, yeah!  It was just plain wrong of me to work in that area.  It felt horrible!

Perhaps a slightly better example was when I worked for a semester in Hospital Ministry.  I don’t recall what my "healing/mercy” scores were back at that time.  Today they’re pretty low.  I ASKED to work in Hospital Ministry.  I thought it would be a good experience.  I was wrong.  It was my job to go to the rooms of patients, and, well, minister to them.  I think all in all it was a good experience for me, stretched my horizons, as I hoped it would.  And the experience taught me that hospital ministry was just not the place for me.  It was so hard to go into those rooms, talking to people I didn’t know, people suffering and frightened.  Far from putting them at ease, they or their families, often had to put ME at ease!  I honestly don’t know who was more frightened!   Fortunately for me, my supervisor soon picked up on my weakness.  She assigned me to one particular patient, a young man with AIDS, a young man who could not make the trip in to the hospital, and so I would go to his house.  We got along fine, I wasn’t frightened, I enjoyed the experience, and to be honest, was ministered to far more than I ministered. 

Journal about an experience when you worked in a spiritual gift area that is one of your HIGHEST scored areas.  What was that like?  How did it feel to work within and succeed in that area?

My highest scores (12 and above – none received a 15) from highest to lowest are in Giving, Knowledge,  Martyrdom, Wisdom and Teaching.  About that Martyrdom, go figure!

When it comes to teaching, I can’t really figure that one out, any more than I can figure out why I score so high in Martyrdom.  I’m an impatient teacher, at best.  To the extent that teaching involves public speaking, I’m horrible!  And when it comes to hands on teaching, well, I’m not too good at that, either.  Knowledge and wisdom, in this context have to do with things of a spiritual nature.  I’m not sure I could say I’ve ever actually worked in these areas!

But giving, while “working in this area” is somewhat problematic, it is an undeniable gift for Scott and I both.  We firmly believe that all our income is a gift from God, and as such is not to be horded.  About five years ago, Scott and I made a conscious decision that we would “work towards” giving a tithe, and in short order had rearranged our living to accommodate this.  We gladly give 10% of all income that comes our way… a little more in fact.  On top of that, we’ve been able to see needs at church and meet those needs… gifts above and beyond our weekly giving.  Sometimes well beyond.  A total look at tax time at our levels of giving show that combined we give closer to 15% of our gross to our church.  I’m a bit less charitable towards non-church related causes.

I truly enjoy being blessed enough to give at the levels that I do.  I know that in doing so, I enable our church to more fully reach out to the needs of our community.  Our gifts, together with many other peoples, enables our church to reach out and minister not only to the spiritual needs, but the physical as well, of people living with HIV and AIDS, to the homeless, and to the many disenfranchised members of our society.  It feels good!

This is a current area that maximizes my use of my strongest gift.  Even with my own sense of connectedness to our church and indeed to God, I continue to work in this area.  It feeds my soul, it strengthens my faith.  It builds me up even while benefiting and building up the church.  I’m pleased beyond measure that Scott and I while not lessening our giving by 1 cent, are no longer even close to being the only significant supporters of our church, and I can pray and praise God that others find joy, partly through our example, partly through a competitive desire, have found joy and blessing in abundant giving to God through MCC Omaha.

more thoughts on last night

16. April 2009 · 1 comment · Categories: Eric's Life

As I think about last night’s unusual conversation with Dad, I’m struck by the thought that, in a way, we’ve come full circle.

Thirteen years ago, last month, is when I first came out to Mom and Dad.  I don’t think about that too much, as it was quite a painful experience of all three of us.  It changed, forever, how we interacted.  For years up to that point, Mom and Dad and I talked on the phone every weekend.  Our conversations were fun, generally lasting more than an hour, lively.  But after that event, our conversations dwindled.  We’d go months between calls, and when we did speak there was always the unspoken issue that we skirted.  The calls were tense, and relatively short. 

Whereas before that time, I always looked forward to every opportunity to fly to California to spend time with them, I began to dread those visits.

By the time Mom and Dad moved to Council Bluffs in the summer of 2003, the tension was largely gone.  We’d settled in to a routine of talking about everything except what was important in my life.  We were talking nearly weekly, again.  When they arrived in CB that summer, even though they lived only a mile away, we kept our contact to a minimum… though I knew they wanted more contact, it was hard for me to spend time with them.  There was always the unspoken but obvious “elephant” in the room that we had to avoid.

It was hard because Scott and I were always together.  And yet Scott’s and my relationship was unaddressed, unspoken, hidden.  Their words from that initial conversation always served to keep me cautious, wary. “We’ll never accept anyone in your life.  They’ll never be welcome.”

While we got along well, and they did seem to accept Scott, it felt to me that the acceptance was predicated on never speaking the truth about who Scott was in my life.  It got to the point that Scott was expected, and they even would inquire into his whereabouts if he didn’t join us.

In time, I had resigned myself to accept the status quo, and that worked.  And it would have served me fine until the very end.  I was okay with the way our lives finally settled in to a comfortable pattern.  It ceased to bother me years ago.

And then, last night happened.  The conversation at Missy’s I’m sure “lubricated” the conversation in the car which followed.  I do wish Scott had been with us.  But perhaps it worked out the way it did because he wasn’t.  The elephant has finally been acknowledged!

It’s remarkable on another level.

After Mom died in 2007, Bob related to us his experience at the funeral home with the butterfly, and the special connection he shared with Mom and butterflies, and how he knew that it was Mom’s way of saying she was still with him.

Mom often told me how she would have experiences where she knew Grandma was with her, after Grandma passed away.

Honestly, I’d come to expect that.  But then, after Mom died, nothing.  I prayed frequently to Mom, spoke to her just about every day in my prayers, asking her to somehow let me know she was around.  Nothing.  This period also coincided with the beginning of my ceasing to experience God on a daily basis as I had for so many years (I wrote about this on Monday).  I had come, to be blunt, to the assumption that Mom was angry with me.  That perhaps, in death, she no longer loved me.  I know that’s just plain inexplicable to some of you who may read this.  I’ve been carrying a lot of baggage from those last 6 months of Mom’s life, that I still can’t put aside, that drove that assumption. I know it’s not rational.  But, then, in modern culture, for me to even talk about Mom’s being present or not after her death is not rational, either.

But last night, at the height of the conversation with Dad, I knew… I just KNEW… that it was Mom who made it happen. 

And now, perhaps, the wound from 13 years and 1 month ago can scar over.  Or perhaps this means the scar itself can now go away.

o.m.g.

15. April 2009 · Comments Off · Categories: Eric's Life

PLACE: Driving with Dad after a nice evening with Uncle Lyle, Missy, Jim, Molly, Timmy and Toby.  And of course Scott.

DAD: “So, is Scott going to do that thing?”

ME: “What thing is that, Dad?”

DAD: “I don’t know… that thing.  You and Scott going to do that thing?”

ME: “Well, I’m not sure what thing you’re talking about Dad.”

DAD: (Frustrated) “I don’t know that special thing in where you live.”

ME: (long pause) “I really am not sure what you mean.” (But getting a feeling I do know.)

DAD: (Really frustrated now) “That special thing.  In Iowa.”

ME: (Very long pause, during which I think my heart might have stopped.) “You mean where the courts have legalized same sex marriage?”

DAD: “Yeah, that’s the thing.  Are you and Scott going to get married, now?”

ME:  “Well, Dad, Scott and I got married in Canada a few years ago.”

DAD: “Yes, I know.”

ME:  “Well, Dad, we may not because we’re already legally married.”

DAD: (Quietly) “Oh.”

ME: “Dad, if we DID get married, would you want to come?”

DAD: (With a lot of animation) “Oh, yes, I really would!  I mean, if I can.”

And I cried.

Pay Back

31. March 2009 · Comments Off · Categories: Eric's Life

They say payback’s a bummer.

As you probably could tell from the blogs during our trip, we had a great, relaxing time.  The drive home, was not so relaxing, though.

Yesterday, I met with a recruiter and we went over my resume.  She has a position in mind, and I’m waiting to hear more now.  I won’t mention who it’s with… don’t want to jinx it!

But, today, the payback for the wonderful trip has come due.  It began this morning.  All afternoon yesterday, there were strange gurglings and rumblings coming from deep inside.  These continued through the night, waking me even.  This morning, all of a sudden I received very clear notification from my internal monitoring center that I had less time than I could believe to bestir myself from my chair and get to the porcelain throne.  If I said I just barely made it, I’d be lying.

Now, I have absolutely no energy.  I napped a bit this morning.  And frankly, I think that’s what I’ll go do right now!

Mea Culpa!

26. February 2009 · Comments Off · Categories: Eric's Life, Ramblings

Uh… hi!

Sorry I haven’t posted since Sunday.  I got addicted to a computer game.  It’s occupied far too much time.  I promise… I’ll repent!

Hmmm.  Blog?  Or play Stupid Computer Game?

Okay, here’s my pledge:  I will only play Stupid Computer Game 1 hour a day.  Maybe then, I’ll take time to blog!

Early Life

20. February 2009 · 2 comments · Categories: Eric's Life, Ramblings

Last Sunday, I indicated I’d be writing a series on my life, boring as it may be.  My first such post was last night, when I wrote about a “Day in the Life“… how a typical day unfolds for me.  Today, I turn to my early life.

I currently live in the town of Council Bluffs, a town on the western “leading edge” of Iowa.  Council Bluffs is a town of approximately 63,000 people.  Just across the Missouri River from Council Bluffs is Omaha, Nebraska.  We are part of the “Omaha Metropolitan Statistical Area”, a metropolitan area of 850,000.  The Omaha MSA in turn is part of a larger “Metroplex” of nearly 1.3 million people. 

Today, I live in a house less than 1/2 mile from where I was born nearly 51 years ago.  I still sometimes drive by the house, a duplex, where I spent the first 18 months of my life… Mom, Dad and I and 2 older brothers lived on one side of the duplex, my maternal grand-parents on the other side.

In 1960, my parents, siblings and I moved across the river to Omaha.  The home we moved into was a split level ranch and, at that time, on the very outskirts of town.  I can still recall looking west from our house and seeing corn fields.  Today, that house is in the center of the Omaha area.

My father was a civil engineer working for a major gas company, though he was also studying law.  By 1964, Dad was a practicing patent lawyer.  Mom was a home-maker, though she also did some work in the 60′s for a political campaign, and then in the 70′s held down a job at Boys Town. 

Our neighborhood fairly exploded with children.  I remember a small handful of these kids from those days. Greg lived across the street, Jimmy lived next to him, Andy around the corner, John on the next block to the north, Paul two blocks away.  There was Jeff, and a boy I just can’t remember between John and I.  Greg, Jimmy and I were probably the closest, though there was an ongoing rivalry between Greg and I for Jimmy’s friendship.  Beyond the boys listed, within just a few blocks were probably another dozen boys… all of us spent our days together.  Sleepovers at various homes, including ours, were not uncommon.  “Camping” in the back yard was a frequent summer-time treat… Dad would set up an old canvas tent that would sleep maybe 4 adults… usually 10 kids!

My cousin Danny lived not too far away, and was part of our gang.  He once “ran away” from home one Sunday.  My Aunt called Mom, quite shaken up, to let us know the horrible news.  Danny was maybe 4 years old, me slightly over 5.  The moment Mom told me what had happened, my gut instinct kicked in, and I ran out the back door and into our “fort”, a collection of 4 or 5 bushes at the corner of our property and had a small “hollow” in the center.  Sure enough, there was Danny.  He’d made the 6 block journey to our house to play!

Playing was pretty typical fare for children.  Hide and Seek is the game I remember the most, though we also had these fantastic summer “water fights”.  There would be thirty to forty of us kids, ranging in age from 5 to 15.  We’d stock up on water pistols and water baloons during the day, getting our arsenels prepared, then, after dinner, the fun would begin, and would last until well after dark.  The territory of our war stretched over 3 full blocks.  Hoses came in to play, as did buckets of water.  The little kids (me included) were detailed to guard our home base, while the bigger kids went off on patrol.  The parents too were involved!  Our Dads, most of whom were veterans of WWII, were the commanding generals, providing tactical and strategic advice… and once or twice getting involved in our “hand to hand” combat!  The water fights were actually modifications of our Hide and Seek games.

It was a close-knit neighborhood.  In addition to the games, there were block parties.  Our Dad’s would block off the end of the street, and set up tables made from saw-horses and planks, card tables… anything that could be turned in to a surface.  The Moms would put out table clothes, and adorn the tables with all types of food… though I remember the hot dogs, hamburgers and fried chicken the best.  We’d wander up and down the block, eating from whichever table looked most inviting (which meant by the end of the night just about every table was barren!)  The kids would wander off to play and the parents would congregate in small groups to chat over coffee… oh, I suppose there was lots of beer, as well!

By the mid sixties, that had begun to dwindle.  Those years were the height of the mobile society and families moved in and out of the neighborhood.  We lost the sense of closeness to a degree.  Those block parties shrank to dinner parties with very full houses!  By the ’70s, there just a handful of “old timers”.  We’d get together and play cards… our parents, that is.  The kids continued to play as play we always had!

Snippets of memories crop up as I write:

  • playing outside, in 1967, waiting to run inside as soon as it was time to watch the moon-landing.
  • not understanding why Mom was crying, as we watched the news of JFK’s assassination on TV.
  • Touring the newly built main fire station downtown as a huge commotion erupted… news that Bobby Kennedy had been assassinated.
  • The two Japanese men staying with us for a week on an exchange program, and the tension in the family room as the older Japanese man and my father discovered that they’d literally fought against each other on Okinawa… in the very same small tract of land they both referred to as “the cemetary”.  And their hugs of mutual apology and forgiveness.
  • The flood of 1964 (I think) when we watched our side yard turn in to a raging creek… a creek that washed out the house to our west.
  • The annual heavy rains that would flood our basement with up to 8 inches of water… water that every one of us would spend hours cleaning up… carrying buckets of water out to the back door… until Dad finally discovered the cause and fixed it… even then, it was only a partial fix.
  • Christmas Eve of 1961… I was a mere three years old. I recall waking around 2 or 3 in the morning, just knowing that there was something horrible in the house.  Running to Mom & Dad’s room, and yelling that something was in the house.  Dad leading us all, Dad first, me second, Paul and Bob (my older brothers) next followed by Mom bringing up the rear.  Dad armed with a baseball bat to lend an air of adventure, as we crept down to the basement… where the noises were coming from.  Throwing open the door and being attacked by a vicious….ly loving Dalmatian puppy!
  • Another midnight hunt to the basement and discovering we’d been literally overrun by MICE!

Memories like this pile one on top of the other as I remember those early years.  For instance, as a Kindergartner, I walked… alone… over 6 blocks to school, crossing a major street!  Today I think that would be considered neglect!  Then it was perfectly normal.  Or, walking home from same school, and stopping to play in the vacant lot where the city had deposited several large sections of drainage pipe big enough for little boys… many at a time… to stand upright in.  Such fun places!  Until one day, exhausted by the rigors of kindergarten, I fell asleep in one of them.  By the time I awoke late, late at night, I couldn’t find my way out.  The neighborhood was awash in activity.  I’d never seen it so busy!  And best of all, Police cars and fire trucks were everywhere!  Police were pounding on doors, firemen were looking in bushes and everywhere… everywhere, that is, except the stockpiled drainage pipes… for the lost or run away little boy!

Next post will be about the 70s!

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