My Surprise

I've know for years that there is a park near where I grew up. It's a cool neighborhood park and is perfect for walking a dog (and taking pictures of grandchildren playing). My surprise that I somehow missed after years of going there is this - they added a trail a few years ago and they are slowly making this trail into a nice walking area. Why would this mean anything to me? You'll see.

We moved to the area when I was 7 and my brother, Scott, was 5. Times were different then and we had run of the neighborhood long before it would have happened today. The nearby creek next to the golf course was a magnet for us. During the warm months, we may as well have lived there. We would get up, eat breakfast, fix our lunch and not come back until it was time for dinner. Since I cooked that dinner for most of my growing up years, it isn't as bad as it sounds.

We blazed trails into the dense woods and underbrush along the creek. We waded and played in that creek until we were wrinkled. We built dams so we would have a swimming area for a little while. At the end of the day the sewage plant upstream would send excess water out and everything would be knocked down. (The mother in me that cringes at what I'm writing is cowering over in the corner and will not be heard from at this time.) We had favorite rocks that became our place to spend the day. Once I became a "reading fool" I would take a book and a towel or blanket and set up for a lazy day with my feet in the water and the sun on my shoulders. I had a couple of friends in the neighborhood that would hang out with me.

Scott was never that calm or still. He was constantly into something. He and his friend Stevie would build camps and play along the creek all day. There was sounds coming from their mouths that I couldn't have made if someone put a gun to my head. Of course, that was one of the sounds they made so I wouldn't have known about the gun anyway. Scott started this lucrative little business that kept us in candy and drinks. He (and I would help sometimes) would dig through the sand everyday for golf balls that the idiots at the course upstream would hit into the creek and either leave there because they didn't want to get wet or they couldn't find it. He would separate them into "classes" . The balls that were perfect were sought after by these same idiots and were more than willing to pay this scrawny little boy. The lesser classed balls were just as sought after but didn't bring as much money. Some guys would get mad because Scott was selling them their own balls but hey - it was found on public land not on the golf course. We weren't stealing the balls. Remember that excess water I was telling you about? Yep, brought those balls right down to our playing area.

It is almost a year since my brother died and I've decided to help improve the trail we used to play on as children in his honor as well as part of happy memories of my childhood. I'm researching what plants are native and non-invasive so I can clean areas of stuff that needs to go -(wisteria, ivy, poisonous plants and so forth) and plant stuff that will grow and be a good tribute. There will be no plaque, no signs and I'm doing this anonymously, not through the organization that is doing the renovations. Just like we used to play and get in trouble sometimes. on my own without anyone knowing. We used to clear brush and make it a nice place for us to play, now others will get to play too.

One more note about this area that my children and grandchildren should not read - stop reading! You HEARD me! When we missed the bus for school we hated going back to the house and telling Dad. We lived a long way from the school and it really wasn't all that convenient to take us out there. So if we had already pushed the limit - we would go to the creek and hang out under the bridge for a few hours and then go back home when Dad was at work and Mom was asleep (she worked 3rd shift and read for a few hours before going to sleep). I became quite the little expert at both Mom's and Dad's names. Not that I'm bragging or anything, but it's ok to tell you since my kids and grandkids aren't reading this part, right?