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1016 Canton Ave, Elmira, NY 14904
It’s all good. Well, school sucks. What do I remember? I remember always being the little guy. Quiet, rarely in trouble, a non-reader, poor at math, incoherent writer, unable to play the Flute, when singing told to just mouth the words, invisible, and sitting here today capable of few positive memories. Always the shortest student. All the girls were taller. I have one skill benefiting me, I could run really fast. The school now gone replace by a parking lot, memories sealed away under blacktop. Stories written or to be written, linger, waiting to be exposed.
The house. The house was fine. Some stories already share and posted:
https://www.keithemaynard.com/post/five-minutes-embedded-forever
https://www.keithemaynard.com/post/someone-was-leaving-me-behind
https://www.keithemaynard.com/post/my-little-league-experience-in-right-field
Other stories forthcoming. Maybe.
A place is a place. I realize best to go with the flow, and honestly, no one seemed interested in my thoughts. This house felt like a mansion, huge, with an enormous yard, surrounded by mature elm trees, a barn, cherry and apple trees, and space for dad to plant and harvest a selection of vegetables. His favorite were tomatoes. I had a space for a garden. Did not inherit a gardener’s gene although I confess weeds did well.
With my bike felt free, and living in a neighborhood of middle-class families, plenty of friends to be made. Summer out and about, drop by for lunch, bologna sandwich and Kool-Aid to drink, then off until dinner. Evenings more time outside, maybe skating in the street, catching lightning bugs, unwinding with parents on the front pouch swing listening to TVs in the background, adult conversations, street lights flicker on as the dark closes in.
Fall, the days shorten, the evenings cool, the leaves float downward covering the ground, then collected, placed along the street to be incinerated. Smoke haze floats upward bound, foretelling of a winter soon to arrive. The trees once filled with color, shades of green, reds, oranges, yellows, brown, now bare. Time for winter wear to be prepared. Hung allowing the mothball smell to dissipate. Most times outgrown.
Winter, days short, nights cold, homes closed up while rays of light sneak out around the edges of curtains and/or aging blinds. And school time, ugh. Sure, a Halloween mask to hide behind, Thanksgiving coming, Christmas, a New Year, Valentine’s day, Easter, birthdays, still, looking forward to Spring.
I must confess I miss walking down snow-covered streets, alone, on a frosty night, condensation forms as I exhale, street lights reflecting off freshly fallen snow while listening to the crunch of snow under each step I take in an otherwise silent world. It feels like I am the only person alive. I exist.
Spring, for me, has one purpose, to announce Summer. Freeze then thaw only to freeze again, turning snow to slush, gray clouds obscuring the sun. Sure plants bloom, eventually, trees sprout buds/leaves, days lengthen, and with any luck I’ll be promoted to the next grade.
Reminiscing, I do my best to hold on to the good memories. My bike, a few friends, neighbors, Boy Scouts, selling Jellybeans/Chocolate Mint Patties, the Barn, collecting newspapers to recycle/sell, Ramona, penny candy, kittens, trees to climb, fireflies and bumble bees to catch, Sparklers, burning leaves, winter night, and…
Helping my dad now, building a house, our future home, nails to be pounded, shingles laid, drywall cut, install hardwood flooring, cut/place and staple insulation, trash collected and hauled away, this measured then remeasured and cut, run and get a soda keeping the change (one nickel), and prepare to say goodbye to Caton Avenue.
We were home. Near family. Familiar sights and sounds abound. Parents lived 1.1 miles away at 500 Beecher Street, so close, a built-in babysitter! Keith would start kindergarten, September 4th, and to add to the mix, I was expecting, again. Our home is an upgrade compared to living in a basement or even a nondescript apartment.
With any luck, we will stay here for longer this time. Dick has a solid job, Keith is now entering 1st grade, Kathy is filling my days, and maintaining a household is my number one job, for now. This is a multi-family residential house with four families, all staying in their private spaces; friendly, but not obtrusive. We have the main downstairs area. There is a second downstairs area with a quiet, pleasant family at the back, in the upstairs front a single male (taught Keith his ABCs), and upstairs back a single mom (taught Keith how to spell his last name) with whom I have built a friendship with, a son.
The neighborhood is quiet, close to schools, Keith can walk with ease, shopping nearby, family minutes away, Dick seems happy with his job and enjoys his empty weekends. I can often find him spending weekend afternoons washing and waxing his auto, 1956 black and yellow Chevrolet Bel Air. The United States Navy no longer controls our world.
Stability.
Eventually, a concern to be addressed, two children, sharing one bedroom. Kathy starting elementary school, Keith starting 7th grade. Decisions to be made, move? Dick, tired of renting and apartment life, wants to build our own place. I concur. My parents recently purchased a home in Horseheads, New York, new, a dozen miles away, two bedrooms, with a basement, space for woodworking, and a large backyard for a garden. Ownership, a sense of permanence. My sister, and family, heading to Ohio. Dick spending every spare moment at work or building our future, often until late at night, every weekend. Everything feels out of sorts. The church family purchased land and now Dick spending hours, with members literary building what was to become Horseheads Church of Christ.
Volatility. But life goes on. Parents live 1.1 miles away.
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