Mom was pregnant with me when they built our house on 21st and Lamborn; the place I called home for the first 9 years of my life. I was a happy kid there. I didn't have the weight of the world on my shoulders and my biggest worry was how to get my older sister to be nice to me. I had 3 older brothers too, but they had been like a first family for my mom and dad. Jane, myself and Joanie all came later and the boys were basically grown by the time I was 5. I don't remember mom being pregnant with Joanie. I was almost 4 years old when she was born, but she never was able to come home from the hospital. She lived a mere 8 hours.
There were a lot of kids in our neightborhood and back then, everyone's kids played outside - summer or winter. We would go to Pattison playground during the day to play baseball or box hockey and in the winter it was ice skating for hours. At night we'd play kick soccer in the alley and only go home when our parents had called us with that tone that said.. you better get home now. And it wasn't all the parents calling their kids either.. if one parent said "time to come in" that meant everyone's kids had better hightail it home.
We knew everyone of our neighbors on our block and most across the streets from us, too. The Leazott's lived next door to us - an elderly couple, at least they seemed elderly to me when I was a kid, and they had a son who was probably around the same age as my brothers. Mrs. Leazott was such a nice lady and always had a treat for me when I would come to their back door for one reason or another.
My mom used to tell me how she could set me out on the back porch step after breakfast while she did her housework and that I'd still be sitting there when she came to find me for lunch. I was a dreamer and the sights and sounds of the neighborhood were enough to keep me occupied in those early days.
As my sister and I got a bit older, our playing range widened too. Unfortunately for my sister, who was four years older than me, she was often strapped with having to let me tag along on her adventures, and she most often let me know that she wasn't particularly happy about it. It was great for me, however, because I got to see other parts of my hometown that I probably wouldn't have gotten around to discovering on my own for awhile yet.
We would bike out to Billings Park or to the museum in East End and spend the whole day exploring. We played at the college too, around Old Main, though I don't recall exactly what we were playing. When the synogogue was being built up on Faxon Street, I remember my sister and I, along with the Higgins twins and the Buchanan girls playing hide and seek inside of it.
Sometimes we'd take the bus over to Goldfines (by the bridge) on weekends. My sister must have been in 7th or 8th grade about that time and her specific reason for going was to buy a pack of cigarettes from the machine by the front door. Thus, one of those important lessons I learned about becoming a teenager! Of course, this particular outing was always precluded by the usual threat from my sister, which went something like "if you even dare to tell anyone I'm buying cigarettes..." That was all she had to say.
I don't have a lot of memories of my brothers from when I was very young. The stories I have heard have become family folklore now. Barry running away from home and how frantic my mother was; Bill putting his arm through the back door window. Bobby, well... he was the oldest and my first memory of him was when he was getting married in 1961. I was in the wedding, so it makes sense that it left an impression on me.
My brother Bill was my hero when I was a kid and still is. We used to wrestle on the living room floor when I was maybe 4-5 years old and he often let me win the match. Then Bill joined the Navy and I remember going to the Duluth Airport and standing out on the observation deck, watching his plane taxi out and take off. It was nighttime and windy and cold and I cried for a long time after he left.
Of all of my siblings, Bill and I are the most alike, I think. We were the black sheep, the screw ups, or so it felt a lot of times. We didn't excel in our studies or our careers or even in our marriages. We made due and never let our pocketbooks do the talking for us. But the one thing we both have is a lot of heart and family has always been our center. Now our passion is our grandchildren, along with the Green Bay Packers. Rarely a week goes by that we don't call each other and just talk about... whatever. Content never seems to matter. It's the love that is poured into those conversations that speaks volumes.
I guess the memories we do hold onto have a way of shaping things in our lives. I'm so thankful for those memories and for having the time now to share them with my children and grandchildren. xxxJBDxxx
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