Kid Experiences

The wife and I were talking a day or so ago. We were listening to NPR talk about a retirement community where children could not live, and could only visit for three weeks or less. She mentioned that she enjoyed having children around our neighborhood. I do as well. Although our immediate neighbors are retired, there are kids a couple of doors down, and teens across the street. There are children on down the block and in several homes between ours and where we turn on to Maize Road.
I enjoy seeing them, and I especially enjoy the ones just down the street. Their home, like ours, backs up to a park and the kids there have taken over a small part of the area right behind their yard. There’s an old tree back there that’s easy to climb, and it’s a perfect place for kids to spend time in the summer or on a Saturday.
I was beginning to wonder if kids did that kind of thing anymore. But these do, and they have friends over and they all enjoy themselves there, or in their backyard pool, or maybe out front at the basketball goal by the side of the drive.
I recall years ago (you knew this was coming, didn’t you) when I thought summers would never end and we had more things to do and places to explore in our neighborhood than we would ever, ever get to. There was always the railroad spur line that ran to a grain elevator next to our small patch of ground (a couple of acres). Or there was a huge pile of trees that had been felled in a neighboring lot that we could climb all over, at least until the owner burned them. When that happened, they had a wiener roast and the neighborhood showed up with hot dogs, marshmallows, and salads and had a good time.
One neighbor had a plot of sweet corn where we would hide and play in after the corn had been picked. Then there was always the drainage ditch a half block away which pretty much always had water in it, or at least puddles of water. Many times there would be crawfish, tadpoles, and other such life in the puddles.
We had an old barn on our property that was good for several hours of exploring and play. It had a loft in it where dad had stored lumber from an old house he tore down on that same lot. And before he tore down that house, it was a good place to explore, along with the yard surrounding it.
And, of course, when all else failed, we could trek across the highway to the far east part of town. There were several lots there on the edge of town that were overgrown and perfect for exploration, and several friends lived in that area. Besides, the town’s sewage treatment plant was nearby (yes, I know that sounds gross, but to a group of boys…) and places we’d not seen in a long time were right nearby, including the highway overpass over the railroad, Sand Creek, and other attractions.
When I was older, I enjoyed working in dad’s shop. He built a workbench for me, which I still have and use by the way, and I spent hours taking things apart, trying to fix things, and building things. I worked a couple of summers in that shop repairing lawn mowers for paying customers, having my own business. That, combined with helping out on the farm (we lived in town, but dad was a farmer/stockman) and helping him with his other job working plumbing and heating pretty much kept me busy during my teen years. I didn’t have any time to get into trouble.
I hope the kids down the street retain fond memories of their years here and are able to tell their kids and grandkids about the times they spent climbing trees, exploring the park, and shooting baskets. About having friends over, swimming in the pool, and playing games until all hours of the night. And I’m sad for any kid that doesn’t have the opportunity to have those kinds of experiences.