Just up our street hardly a block from our house lived a kind old woman and her son—right across the street from the Webbs. The Gobles were welcoming and friendly to us children. Back in those days, children could visit adults in their homes without fear of abuse, and I visited Mrs. Goble frequently. I enjoyed cheering her up. She was always so happy to see me. She obviously enjoyed having company, and I was 4-5 at the time and filled that need wonderfully. As benevolent as that may sound, I admittedly was there for the treats. Sometime during my visit after introductory pleasantries and probing questions about my family, Mrs. Goble brought out the cookies, and I was allowed to take whatever I wanted. Imagine that—a whole tray of sugar cookies, pecan pralines, lemon drops, and shortbread-like Mexican wedding cakes. Actually, I had no idea the real names of the variety of delicacies. I just remember savoring every bite. She must have known how much I liked the cookies, because she kept them coming as long as I would sit there and visit. And I expect that she knew I never got such a prize all to myself in a house of eight children, so we kept having regular visits for some time, until my mother found out. Then I was gently rebuked to not solicit treats from poor old Mrs. Goble. You may think I would have been crushed, but truth is I was getting too old for this kind of engagement, and I didn’t know how I was going to break it to my elderly friend. So it all worked out in the end, but I will always remember with fondness my wonderful visits to Mrs. Goble’s.
Our neighborhood was full of big, kind families. And with the abundance of great adults came a plentiful number of equally-fine children. So after school and minimal chores, our days were filled with visits, playtime, and games. Sometime after dinner we would begin playing kick-the-can and other night games. This involved the entire neighborhood, and for a short time ages didn’t matter. I guess many times I felt like the kid that was too small to be included in the typical games, but kick-the-can was a neighborhood affair, and it so happened that the street in front of our house was the perfect place for game night activities. It wasn’t official or anything like that. It’s just that we were central in the area and the neighborhood roads converged in front of our house. There was also a tall telephone pole with a street light atop, which came in handy when the evening games went late. So that’s where everyone came to play night games. Tony Freeman, Blair Oliphant, Kent Greenfield, Chip Searle, and many others gathered in a sort of truce to play. Around this time, most of the kids in the immediate neighborhood were my senior and good friends with my older brother Gregg: Marty Ore, Scott Webb, Scott Warenski, and others. Of course, I had my posse as well David Smith, Brad Wright, Paul Chamberlain, David Jenkins, Roger West and many others to name just a few.
Our parents made our home and yard beautiful and usable for us children. A basketball standard in the front car port was a favorite of mine. Dad built a tree-hut for the boys and a playhouse for the girls. We used both structures frequently with our friends. A large apricot tree stood beside the tree-house, and a ladder climbed to the hatch that enabled entrance into the den. It was our hideout. Closing the small door on the floor and locking it shut meant no one could enter. Open-air windows on either side of the hideaway allowed us to detect adversaries before they attacked. Mom took great care decorating, painting, papering, and designing the play house, but the tree hut was left more rustic for the boys. We also had a swing-set and a metal slippery slide. I remember that because in the summertime, it would get very hot. We had a solution. Placing a running hose at the top of the slide cooled the metal and increased our velocity considerably.
Ours was a great neighborhood and my mom and dad enjoyed being a part of it. I remember that we sponsored a carnival one summer. My siblings dressed up in various costumes. Gregg was a clown. Robyn was a flapper; Randy a magician. And the playhouse became the candy store. Lollipops, suckers, cookies and licorice lined the table and shelves. Randy performed magic tricks in the tree hut. Games, prizes. food and treats galore.
The whole neighborhood came. Everything was free. It was just for fun. What great times we had as children.
Other fun memories I have include spending time with my father on a night out with dad. Of course with seven siblings, spending one-on-one time with dad was rare. To alleviate this problem, dad instigated Dads night out, which was simply a regularly occurring time when one of the children would get to spend an evening with dad doing something we liked. I’m not really sure what others did with dad on their night out, but I was young, and we kept things simple. I remember going to Fernwoods for ice cream on 23rd East. Just being with dad was a treat.
Our neighborhood was full of big, kind families. And with the abundance of great adults came a plentiful number of equally-fine children. So after school and minimal chores, our days were filled with visits, playtime, and games. Sometime after dinner we would begin playing kick-the-can and other night games. This involved the entire neighborhood, and for a short time ages didn’t matter. I guess many times I felt like the kid that was too small to be included in the typical games, but kick-the-can was a neighborhood affair, and it so happened that the street in front of our house was the perfect place for game night activities. It wasn’t official or anything like that. It’s just that we were central in the area and the neighborhood roads converged in front of our house. There was also a tall telephone pole with a street light atop, which came in handy when the evening games went late. So that’s where everyone came to play night games. Tony Freeman, Blair Oliphant, Kent Greenfield, Chip Searle, and many others gathered in a sort of truce to play. Around this time, most of the kids in the immediate neighborhood were my senior and good friends with my older brother Gregg: Marty Ore, Scott Webb, Scott Warenski, and others. Of course, I had my posse as well David Smith, Brad Wright, Paul Chamberlain, David Jenkins, Roger West and many others to name just a few.
Our parents made our home and yard beautiful and usable for us children. A basketball standard in the front car port was a favorite of mine. Dad built a tree-hut for the boys and a playhouse for the girls. We used both structures frequently with our friends. A large apricot tree stood beside the tree-house, and a ladder climbed to the hatch that enabled entrance into the den. It was our hideout. Closing the small door on the floor and locking it shut meant no one could enter. Open-air windows on either side of the hideaway allowed us to detect adversaries before they attacked. Mom took great care decorating, painting, papering, and designing the play house, but the tree hut was left more rustic for the boys. We also had a swing-set and a metal slippery slide. I remember that because in the summertime, it would get very hot. We had a solution. Placing a running hose at the top of the slide cooled the metal and increased our velocity considerably.
Ours was a great neighborhood and my mom and dad enjoyed being a part of it. I remember that we sponsored a carnival one summer. My siblings dressed up in various costumes. Gregg was a clown. Robyn was a flapper; Randy a magician. And the playhouse became the candy store. Lollipops, suckers, cookies and licorice lined the table and shelves. Randy performed magic tricks in the tree hut. Games, prizes. food and treats galore.
The whole neighborhood came. Everything was free. It was just for fun. What great times we had as children.
Other fun memories I have include spending time with my father on a night out with dad. Of course with seven siblings, spending one-on-one time with dad was rare. To alleviate this problem, dad instigated Dads night out, which was simply a regularly occurring time when one of the children would get to spend an evening with dad doing something we liked. I’m not really sure what others did with dad on their night out, but I was young, and we kept things simple. I remember going to Fernwoods for ice cream on 23rd East. Just being with dad was a treat.
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