10807

Sitting here staring out the window all I can think of is 10807 Penelope. A much simpler time, when flowers bloomed year round it seemed, when the smells of my mothers cooking filled the air, when treehouses and forts in the woods were as much a part of my existence as my bedroom was. A time when I had 3 sisters to play with, horses to ride, dogs to run with, someone to kiss away the boo-boos and an endless imagination. This was a time when one armed Sam mowed our yard, everyone ate together at the dinner table and mother's still wore dresses. At times it don't seem that long ago, then at other times it seems a lifetime ago. 10807 Penelope was a small 3 bedroom frame house that sit in Wynnwood Acres off of Oates Rd with a long gravel driveway that went along side the house to the back to the one car garage. In that garage I can still see my Daddy working on the lawnmowers or tinkering with something. He always had his screwdrivers stuck in his back pocket. I drove through there a few months ago and the entire neighborhood seemed so small. But when I was a kid, it was boundless. There were only 4 streets in the neighborhood - Penelope, Pandora, Evangeline & Gloria.

All the streets met at the end and there was a huge gully that became our version of a bike ramp. We (all the kids in the neighborhood) would meet at the end of the neighborhood with our bicycles (the big 1960's Western Flyer model bought from the local Western Auto Store) all lined up and would take turns backing up to the street, then jumping on our bike and pedaling as fast as we could and down into to gully we would go one by one and hope that we had enough speed built up to make it to the top on the other side. There was me, my sisters, Mike Baker and his little sister, then there was Karen Knight, Darcy Hambrick, Wyatt Oates, Jeanette, Kevin and the Woods kids and probably few others that time has erased their memory from my mind. In those days, no one locked their doors or took their keys out of the ignition. When a new family moved in the neighborhood, all the ladies would bake pies, cakes and cookies and take them over and welcome them to the neighborhood. The roads in the neighborhood had a thick black tar painted over them and in the summer would form bubbles. All the neighborhood kids would sit in the road with sticks and pop the bubbles. And at night when we came in (I'm sure the other's had to go through it too), mom would sit us down and use lighter fluid to get the tar off the bottoms of our feet before our baths.

We didn't have computers, stereos, playstations or even a color TV. Our TV's were black and white and only had 3 channels. But as a kid, we only watched TV with the family and then it was shows like Lassie, Flipper, Bonanza or Gunsmoke. I remember once as a kid watching a variety show called the Ed Sullivan show and they had these 4 men on TV singing songs with shaggy hair. At the time I really didn't understand the big deal or the enormity of what I was witnessing. As it turned out these 4 men were known as The Beatles. Of course thinking of it now, that TV that was only turned on occasionally was the source of a lot of history - i.e. the assassination of JFK & Bobby Kennedy, the first man on the moon, the Watergate break-in and many many other moments that are now just a page in a history book somewhere.

The days back then were always full of adventure. We had each other and endless imaginations to occupy our days. In the summer we would all meet sometime after breakfast and after chores and would stay gone all day long. We wouldn't dare go back to the house, that would only mean having to stay inside all day. If we got thirsty, we got water from the water hose or the horses' water trough. If we got hungry, there were enough fruit trees and/or gardens in which we could rob a tomato, an ear of corn or a pear. That would hold us over until dinner.

Holidays then were really special. On Halloween, there was an elderly woman that lived at the end of Evangeline Street that made homemade popcorn balls and on Halloween evening we would stand at the front window all dressed in our costumes (which consisted of something put together because keep in mind this was a time before WalMarts and everything made ready) with our noses pushed up against the window waiting for the first shadows to fall. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, momma would finally say "it's dark enough, ya'll can go" and out the door we would race. And race we would all the way to Mrs. Boudreaux's house to be first in line to get a Popcorn ball. Then house to house we would go until there was absolutely no room left in our Halloween bags, but we would make one more stop at Mrs. Boudreaux's house to see if there were anymore Popcorn balls left. After getting home with our bounty, we would spread it over the living room floor and admire the pieces of bubble gum, tootsie rolls, wax bottles and atomic balls but in the end would know that all of it would go into a big bowl that would sit in the middle of the "big" dining table and would be doled out to us as momma saw fit. But then would come Thanksgiving and Christmas. It's funny now that I enjoy Thanksgiving more than Christmas and then it was the other way around. Thanksgiving was one of those meals in which the "big" dining table got cleaned off and we sat at the big table with family and friends over. Christmas just always seemed so magical as a kid. We always had one present to open on Christmas Eve and it was always a nightgown with matching slippers. We would get dressed into our new nightgowns and crawl into bed and try to hard to go to sleep. But no matter as hard as you tried to sleep, it never felt like we slept and we were always awake at the crack of dawn. But we knew better than to go into the living room, so into mom and dad's room we would go and stand at the foot of their bed whispering to my sisters (knowing that would surely wake them up). I can still remember how excited we would be waiting for momma and daddy to wake up and let us open presents.

One year, probably around 1968 I got a Kenner Swingster Portable 45 rpm record player. It was Aqua Green and I thought that was the best present ever given to anyone. I was old enough at the time to know that Santa didn't exist, but didn't dare spoil the fun for my little sisters. But I had my own record player. Me, Karen Knight and Darcy Hambrick listened to Georgie Girl by the Seekers and Hush by Deep Purple over and over again. Sometimes I still wonder what happened to that record player. And there's not a time that when I hear Hush that I'm not transported back 42 years ago, sitting on a hardwood floor in front of the Christmas tree that's decorated with a popcorn string and shiny red balls, wearing my new flannel nightgown that comes all the way to the floor with matching slippers and my hair braided in to two braids holding my new portable record player thinking I was the luckiest girl alive.