So, driving in my car today I caught a glimpse of one of those huge drain pipes that run under the street. After seeing the drain pipe, I started thinking back to growing up in Northern Acres where I would play in such a drain pipe. The neighborhood was like an amusement park. There were always awesome things to do! Playing in the drain pipe was just one of them.
I can remember carrying my boom box on my shoulder (because I had recently seen the movie Breakin) and listening to my Kool and the Gang tape, walking down to New Jenean- as it was known to us Northern Acre-ers- to play in the drain pipes with my friends.
Cynthia, Pepper & Jodi
A little bit of background, the neighborhood was huge, or at least seemed that way when I was a kid. My best friend was Cynthia Cottrell. Her and I were at a bit of a disadvantage when it came to playmates. Our part of the neighborhood, on Acre Ln, was ruled by boys. Her two brothers, Matt Wagley, the Nash's who lived next door to me and some boys that would come over to the Nash's from Starkey. Boys who were usually mean to us. Here is a short list of some of the things I had thrown at me- rocks, different varieties of bugs, a dead snake and live firecrackers. The firecrackers were thrown at me by Eric Nash. They actually blew a hole in the bottom of my Strawberry Shortcake nightgown- not sure why I was outside in the middle of the day with my nightgown on- but this probably explains why I am afraid of firecrackers to this day. Anyhow, Cynthia and I adapted and played boys games- which involved climbing around in this drain pipe. On occasion, Cynthia and I got to act like girls and play with Barbies. But, it was in secret, under my dining room table, lest it be discovered that we were actually girls who enjoyed doing girl things!
The drain pipes fed into a ditch that was full of cattails. Which, by the way, is where I thought corn dogs came from for most of my childhood. Thankfully, I didn't like corndogs, so I never attempted to eat one of these out of the ditch.
Playing in the drain pipe was great! We would walk down this enormous hill, down into the ditch. Then we would crawl around in the drain pipe until it got boring. Or until I ran out crying because one of the boys had kicked the drainage water at me. There were crayfish and leaches that lived in there. Well, there were rumored to be leaches in the drain pipe. I never actually saw one. But, the fact that it was possible made the drain pipe a scary and awesome place.
On the way back to Acre Ln from the drain pipe, we would stop off in one of the courts. The Gardners, my parent's friends, lived next door to a house with a trampoline. These nice people would let every kid in the neighborhood jump on their trampoline. Today, it wouldn't be possible because someone's parent's would sue when their kid fell off. But back in the 80's, it was all good. They had a big apple tree right next to the trampoline. The goal was to jump as high as you could and pick the apples at the top of the tree.
My sister was responsible for babysitting me during the summer. I was in elementary school and she was in high school. So, instead of hanging out with her friends- she was stuck at home with me. I stayed outside most of the time, but sometimes we would come inside to watch TV. Cynthia and I would want to watch "Today's Special" on Nickelodeon and Stacey would want to watch General Hospital. But, we had a rule in the Bratcher house- whoever was sitting in the green chair (which now resides in my house) gets control of the TV. It was always her. So, defeated, Cynthia and I would head back outside.
Stacey was also responsible for serving us lunch. My dad bought cans of Zooroni by the case, as that was my favorite and I ate it everyday. However, Cynthia and I would still sit at the dining room table and make Stacey get a notebook and pen and take our orders. Playing restaurant was fun for us, not sure why it wasn't for her?
Cynthia lived next door to an empty lot. Between that lot and the next house, there was a ditch with a hill on both sides, so when we would get a considerable amount of rain it would fill up- like a redneck swimming pool. Cynthia and I and the other kids, would put on our bathing suits and grab a raft and play in the flooded ditch for hours. Looking back, it is really disgusting. But, we didnt know any different. Not only did we not have a pool, we didn't have a sprinkler to play in either. Our only option was spraying each other with freezing cold water from the garden hose. So, the warm water in the ditch was a welcomed change.
We had an old radio out in our garage. No stations would come in and it always had the same Toto 8 track stuck in it. Sometimes, Cynthia and I would put on our roller skates (Strawberry Shortcake with red wheels) and skate around the garage listening to Rosanna. Everytime I hear that song, it reminds me of roller skates.
Ignore the dork and the Mustang. The court behind me is where Snow Mountain was in the winter
Winter time was even better. When it would snow, the plows would push all the snow into the center of Kenneth Ct, right across from my house. We always ended up with a mountain of snow. I don't really know how tall it was, but it seemed like it was 50ft high. The boys would always climb to the top. I was too afraid. But, I would climb as high as my fear would let me and then hop on my sled and head down towards the pavement. Snow mountain was the greatest.
One winter my dad tied the sleds to the trailer hitch on the van and pulled us around the neighborhood. Again, not something you could get away with now, but it is my favorite sledding memory.
When we got a lot of snow, we would go over to Betty Happ's house. The snow would make huge drifts in her yard up against the Comers' fence. We would dig out tunnels and make snow forts in her yard.
Also, in the winter, the corn field behind us- which I believe is now Highland Springs- would freeze over. You could go out there and slide around like you were ice skating. The corn field belonged to Mr Gosh. The only time I was allowed in it was in the winter. During the summer, my parents had warned me that I could get lost in the corn and there were big machines that drove through it and it could be a very dangerous place. I was afraid of Mr Gosh, and this only added to the fear. I never met Mr Gosh, my fear of him was created by the stories made up and told to me by the kids in the neighborhood. I had heard if you went on to his property he had a shot gun he would fire in your direction. As proof? A sign hanging on the edge of his property that read, "trespassers will be shot." There was also a story about a building on his property, in the woods beside the corn field. The story involved two teenagers that had gone into the woods to that building to make out. Mr Gosh found them and shot them and their bodies were still there- haunting the place. This story was no doubt made up and told to us by the older boys, my sister's age, that lived by us. But, I hung on every word. I have a memory of going into the woods and seeing the building, but being too afraid to get near it. I'm not sure if I actually did that or if that memory is really just the images created in my head while hearing the story.
Not only did we have the stories about Mr Gosh, there was a rumor that there was a witch in our neighborhood as well. She lived on David Ct. The houses on David Ct had back yards that backed up to mine. So, I could see her house from my back door. Everyone was afraid of her, although I'm not sure how the story got started. Again, probably older boys. She lived alone, was rarely outside and had a gazing ball in her yard- probably used to predict fortunes or spy on the neighborhood kids. When we were on that street, we would stop and stare at her house, possibly waiting for her to fly out on her broom and grab one of us for her lunch. On Halloween, I was always scared to trick or treat at her house. But, one year, with my friends beside me, I worked up the courage. When she came to the door, I was shocked. She was not horribly disfigured, she didn't have a green face and a wart on her nose. She was younger than my parents and had pretty blonde hair. She was pleasant to us and gave us candy. All of a sudden, I had to question the story of her being a witch. Was everything I knew to be true a lie? I came to the conclusion she most certainly was a witch...she was just in disguise. I knew for a fact she could change her apperance- since I had also heard she could turn herself into a bat- Clearly we had witches and vampires confused.
David Ct branched off of Old Jenean. On that street and Shelia, the next block over, lived the girls who went to St Malachy. We weren't fond of each other. It was like a little girl version of the Sharks and the Jets- or Bloods and Crypts for those not into theatre. Whenever we would walk down their street it was because we were looking for trouble. I had recently learned to cuss- thanks, no doubt, to being on the boy end of the neighborhood. So, whenever we would encounter each other, I would drop whatever "cool" words I had learned on them. Gina, however, always put me to shame. She was always quicker with a comeback, so she would win. My problem may have been after I ran out of new cuss words, I resorted to what I knew..." Baby, baby 2x4. Couldn't fit through the bathroom door. So, you did it on the floor. Licked it up and did some more" or "I know you are, but what am I?" Not really great comebacks. Eventually, I was tired of losing and the battle ended.
One of my favorite features of the greatest neighborhood on earth- the dirt track. These were paths that wound through the empty field by Mr Gosh's corn field. The boys would head out there to do tricks and be cool on their Mongooses. I would show up there with my Blue Angel bike. It had a banana seat with pictures of clouds, blue and silver streamers coming out of the handle bars, a basket with plastic flowers on it and a horn installed by my dad. It was a beauty- and probably why I had rocks thrown at me on occasion. The best part of the dirt track- it connected Northern Acres with Starkey, where my grandmother lived. I could head out there and ride over to grandma's house without having to get out on 267.
We eventually got old enough to ride our bikes "the long way" around the neighborhood- which consisted of Acre Ln turning into Jennifer Ln turning into Kathy Dr. It made one big circle that was about a half a mile. By that time, I had a 10 speed. It was a junior 10 speed because I was short- but a 10 speed nonetheless. That was about the time I made friends with the Denhart girls on Kathy Dr. Plus a boy named Chad Beck moved into the court across the street. We all had fun together. I can remember riding my 10 speed out of the neighborhood across the corn field to Yeager's (Phillips 66) to get candy with Chad. I didn't get caught, so the next time we went further and rode all the way to Kmart. Ya...then I got in trouble. Rather then going under 74, we went over it. Thankfully, it wasn't as large and busy as it is now and we made it back alive. Only to get killed when I got home.
But, my all time favorite part of Northern Acres- my house. I have memories of every inch of the house and every inch of the yard.
Where I learned to stand like this
Where Santa always found me
Where I learned to play the piano...and copy my sister.
Where my sister dressed up as Little Bo Peep to go to prom
We left northern acres the summer before I started Jr High. My parents built a house in Pebblebrook. I was excited to move. We were moving into a much larger house, so it seemed exciting. Until we got there. I wasn't old enough to drive yet, so I was stuck at home alone with none of my friends. I remember my dog, Sheena, going into a state of depression after we left Northern Acres. She had left the only house she had ever known and she wasn't adjusting well. I could sympathize. We were miserable together. Eventually, things got back to normal and I settled into my new house. Thankfully, I didn't have to completely abandon the neighborhood that I loved. Jami still lived there. So, throughout junior high and high school, I was still spending most of my time in my old neighborhood.
When I was 21, the house went up for sale. I was dying to see it. So, my husband (at the time) and I went to check it out. We pulled in the driveway and the pergola my dad had built on the front porch was gone. I started crying and it only got worse from there. We went inside and nothing looked the same. The house seemed so small and was so different. The kitchen had been remodeled. I couldn't even recognize it. I went into the family room and looked out the backdoor and the barn my grandfather had built had been moved and was sitting on top of Pepper's grave. At that point, I went from crying to sobbing- in front of this real estate agent who had no idea what was wrong with me. We went back into the bedrooms. I went into my sister's room first, then my parents. They looked so different. I went into my brother's room and the walls were painted black and there were cracks in the drywall. It was obvious the people who lived there didn't love the house as much as we had. I went through the Jack and Jill bathroom, my brother and I shared, into my room. The built in shelves and desk my dad had built were gone. By this point, I was sobbing so hard I couldn't speak. I made it out to the car and cried the whole way home.
I was at a complicated time in my life. I was married to someone who was so wrong for me. I got pregnant shortly after marrying him and started realizing that my child was not going to have the same kind of happy childhood I had. That isn't the way it is supposed to work. Going into my favorite house, that was the backdrop of all my happy childhood memories, reminded me of how I had failed this child. Hence the hysterical crying. Going into that house today, I would not have that same reaction.
For years, before seeing the house in 1997, I would have recurring dreams of breaking into it to see what it looked like. At least once a year, I drive past it. I still miss it. I don't want to live there anymore. That was a different time in my life, that I can't recreate. Things change. I'm not a fan of change, but I've learned to adjust to it.
Although I still love Northern Acres and cherish my house at 33 Acre Lane, I understand it wasn't the house that made my childhood memories so happy. It was my family.
And, for all of you who lived in Northern Acres with me, you are part of my favorite memories. I have a million more stories I could tell about my neighborhood and the kids who lived there with me. But, I'm stopping with these...for now :)
