For most teens a car meant freedom. When the time came for me to get a car, it only meant transportation. For me, freedom was my bicycle.
I don’t remember when I began riding a bike, but I know there were limitations on distance and directions beyond which I was not permitted to go. I most likely fudged from time to time, but basically, I kept those boundaries. But as summer approached and school was ending with my completion of 7th grade, all boundaries were lifted. The new rule was to be home before the street lights came on. That was liberating. I felt mature, grown up, the Christian equivalent of bar mitzvah. I was trusted.
Glen was my primary riding partner. We had already thoroughly explored our neighborhood. One of our favorite spots was around 33rd and California. We both liked the drugstore on the corner. They had this very cool black and white, shiny soda fountain and a couple of guys who made terrific strawberry shakes and hot chocolate sundaes. The store also had a great collection of house plan books. I spent a lot of money on those books. It was late 6th grade and into 7th grade that I became absolutely fascinated with house plans. I thumbed through every new book they had and bought as many as I could. I never had porn stored under my bed it was house plans.
A block south was the beginning of Gifford Park. It angled for three blocks between 33rd and 35th and Cottage Grove and Davenport. There was a hill off 33rd that dropped into the park and we often played like we were spies, running around and hiding in the bushes. There was a Standard Gas Station with an air pump for our tires right across the street. We explored that entire neighborhood street-by-street alley-by-alley and even bush-by-bush. There were times we slipped across Dodge and checked out Turner Park. It was small and not as Interesting as Gifford. Besides, Dodge was our eastern limit. Neither of us wanted to spend too much time there anyway.
But when the restrictions were lifted we were off to Memorial and Elmwood Park way, way out west (probably about 30 blocks). At least it felt that way to 12-year-olds. We even ventured onto the University of Omaha (now U of N at Omaha) but never stayed long. Too crowded. There was the keenest (another expression we had) path with an arched stone tunnel under a nearby street. Next to it were the drinking fountains. We hung out around there a lot. It was fun to explore the hills rising toward the University.
We rode around Memorial Park, but didn’t play there much. It is a memorial to the fallen soldiers of WWII. It always seemed like such a solemn place. The expanse was huge and the drop to Dodge Street seemed a great distance, but beautiful.
I always wanted to return home through Dundee neighborhood along Chicago, Cass or California just to see all the huge homes. I would look in awe wondering what they were like inside. As I learned more about architecture I was soon able to figure out what rooms were where by the size and shape of the windows and their location. I longed to see the staircases. Many were unique. If there was a garage, it was often accessed from the alley and was only for one car. Even then I didn’t know how a car could fit in those skinny little things.
My brother David did deliveries for Brandeis Department store and on more than one occasion delivered to their mansion on Dodge. It was too big to figure out. They did not have a garage. They had a converted stable with servant quarter’s overhead (a carriage house). Man I wanted to see inside so bad I kind of wanted to grow up to be a deliveryman to that mansion. David said he always delivered to the back door and never even got his head inside. So much for that dream!
We loved to go south to a place called Devils Slide. I think that was only a name the kids gave it. There was a very slight slope to the bottom from a plateau high at the top. From years of use, most likely, a slide of sorts had been worn on the hill. There were always a number of kids having a blast at the slide. We always came home from there a filthy mess. “Where have you been?” “In the dirt.”
We did some riding around downtown, but it was too busy and there was no place to leave our bikes without fear of having them stolen. We would also ride along the Union Pacific Yards, but there was nothing much to see. Trains were lined near the road and blocked any view into the yards. I just wanted to see where dad worked. I never did.
That summer was the year of freedom. We went riding nearly every day, and only returned as dusk. I lost track of how many lunches I missed by not being home. I didn’t care. I had the world to explore, well at least nearby neighborhoods.
Memorial Park, Omaha, NB (I remember it being green)
No comments:
Post a Comment