The ‘Hood

The house I grew up in can’t be seen from this picture.  It’s in the middle of the street on the right-hand side.  The south side of the street, right next to that big white house on the corner with the chain link fence.  It was a small A frame home, built in the late 1800’s of lath and plaster, and had no duct work, except the stove pipe which reached from the living room into the landing of the second floor.  When the home was renovated to include a furnace, and the old stove was removed, ducting was added to the main floor, and the stove pipe was used to bring the heat to the upstairs.  No vents were added to the two bedrooms my sisters and I occupied on the second level, so that one opening on the landing was our only source of heat in the winter.  In the summer, there was no central air, and so, we spent many nights sleeping on sheets in the living room, where the one window air conditioner attempted to cool the entire main level of our home.  We lived a very simple life in that home.  In fact, it wasn’t until I was a senior in high school that my parents were able to afford a renovation on the kitchen and bathroom and were able to put new carpet and drywall in the living room.  I have some great memories of that house with the wood paneling and the gold matted carpet we laid on all those summers.  However, as much time as we spent inside; we spent twice as much outside.

My two sisters and I were the only three children who lived on our street.  So, we played with the rest of the “East End” kids.  On the Southwest corner of the street lived Irvin and Esther.  Irvin was a mason and a beekeeper; his excess mortar lined the ditch on the East side of their home, where I lost all my toenails when I rode my bike with no shoes.  His wife, Esther, mostly stayed inside, but always was kind to us.  On the Northwest corner of my street lived Mr. & Mrs. Gibson.  They had first names, Ralph and Inger, but we never called them that; as Mr. Gibson was the Superintendent of our school.  I didn’t know until much later that he was also a WWII war hero.  He and his wife were so very pleasant, and had I not known he was the superintendent, I would have only thought he was a very nice man on our street who was always kind and caring.  They cared so much about us that they sold their daughter’s clarinet to my parents, so that I could be in band.  To the West of us on the same side of the street, lived Nelma and Glen and their two sons.  The boys were older than us, by about ten years, but they were like our family.  Nelma was our babysitter when mom had to run this errand or that, and always had a cookie or “chippies” for us (the old-style small bags of potato chips).  In fact, we would go over every chance we could get and ask for these small treats from Nelma.  Often times, we came in the middle of her cooking supper (she used a cast iron skillet), or her “working” her puzzle while Glen watched Gilligan’s Island.  We loved her like a grandmother, all of us girls.  We still do.  Whenever there was a catastrophe that mom couldn’t handle, we ran to Nelma’s.  Remember the toenails I lost on Irvin’s mortar pile?  Nelma cleaned them up and put bandages on my toes.  When there was a snake in the front yard, I went and told mom, but she didn’t believe me.  When she saw it for herself, she sent me to get Nelma.  Most all my childhood memories contain some sort of Nelma moment.  Directly across the street from Nelma and Glen were Mr. and Mrs. Reschly.  Again, they had first names, Floyd and Hazel.  However, we never called them by their first names.  We always addressed them properly, as my parents demanded it.  They were nice people, who waved at us from their home, but weren’t the kind of people who hung out with kids much.  On the Southwest corner of my street lived Dorothy and LaVerne.  They were friends of my grandparents, who owned one of the local gas stations.  Their grandson was in my class, and they were very sweet people who always allowed us to play basketball on their court.  They were very busy, community-minded people, who spent a lot of time working their business and supporting many organizations in our little town.  Fellow horse people, we saw them around the Wayland Saddle Club arena often, and they were as kind there as they were at their home.  Finally, on the Northwest corner of our street were Dick and Orpha.  They had a couple of girls who were much older than us, who were friendly and nice.  I always admired Orpha’s hospitality and kindness and her home, which became one of those picturesque things in my mind.  Dark brown with wicker furniture on the front porch and a pot of red geraniums, if I remember correctly.  I remember Dick on his riding lawnmower, and I often wished we’d had one of those, because push mowing our lawn was not much fun.  Dick and Orpha were always kind to us kids, and their eyes reflected the joy that was in their hearts.  I could literally see it in their eyes.

Our street wasn’t filled with kids our age, but the neighborhood had plenty of kids to play with.  There were the Vandenburg kids, the youngest was still a year older than me, so there wasn’t much playing they reached junior high.  The Unternahrer kids lived on the block as well, but they were much older than I, and probably played with me by concession.  However, they were both very kind, and I still enjoy talking to them to this day.  Their parents John and Phyanna were kind and loving people, always inviting us to Bible school and into their home.  They also gave us a full-sized candy bar on Halloween.  I’ll never forget how special that made me feel.  The real full sized candy bar, just for me.  (Probably not, but I felt like it) Steve and Cindy had three kids, Jessie, Jenny and Mike.  They were younger than me, the two girls the same ages as my two younger sisters.  I didn’t play a lot with them but was invited to swim in their below ground pool a couple of times.  How exciting!  Their home was also amazing with central air and a tv room just off the garage.  I loved how Cindy always made me feel welcome, even though I was older than her kids, and really didn’t have many social graces.  I never felt unwanted there, even though I was a hanger-on of my sisters.  Steve drove a company truck, which was white and had red swirly designs on it.  As a kid, I always thought that was so neat.  My dad didn’t have swirly designs on his truck.  Later on, I also envied his riding lawn mower, like I did Dick’s.  Those two guys made mowing the grass seem like fun!  The Rinners had two girls, and we often played together.  So much so that Dianna fed us and let us play in the basement of their home, which was cool in the summer.  In the Rinner’s back yard, was where Goodwin Moving Company stored all their railroad ties.  Stacy, Mitzi and I had so much fun having all kinds of imaginary adventures on those railroad ties!  The Roberts lived across from the Rinners; in between the Vandenburgs and the Unternahrers.  The Roberts kids were way younger than I was, and I don’t remember much about them.  On the far South side of the block were the Hesser kids, Manning kids, and Richenberger kids.  All of whom were extremely younger than I and became my babysitting charges when I was a young teenager.  The Farmers sat down a huge hill and had three kids.  The oldest was a few years older than me, the middle child, in my class, and the youngest a few years younger than me.  They had a huge home, which my grandparents rented when they first moved into the area.  Another Unternahrer family moved into Edna Widmer’s old house in the mid 80’s. Susanna was in my class, and she was the first child to look different than the rest of my class.  She was born in Bolivia, and she could speak Spanish, which I found extremely enchanting.  I would listen to her speak in her home language with her mother and sister in complete awe and a bit of jealousy, wishing I had a way to communicate that no others could understand.  Susanna was smart and quiet, poised and obedient; all the things I always wished I was and she was my friend.  She invited me over and rode bikes with me, she was kind and had soulful eyes.  I remember well when she wrecked my 10 speed by running a stop sign and broke her collar bone.  It was so scary!  The football coach, Mr. Sisco lived down the block and had a son who was much older than me.  He also had a tree that I liked to climb while I pretended to be Daisy Duke when I played with the Scarf kids.  Ryan was in my class and Chad and Sara were younger than me.  I remember sometimes, Ryan and I would play like she was our baby, he loved her so much.  When we got older, Ryan would punch me in the arm so hard, picking on me, trying to act like he was all tough.  I would throw apples at him, from our crab apple tree in our front yard as he rode past on his bike, pretending to be Starsky or Hutch, no doubt.  It was in the Scarff house that I encountered my first run in with the law.  Actually, I had gone to play with Ryan and Chad, and we got to watching TV and I lost track of time.  I hadn’t told my parents I would be inside, so they had no idea where I could be.  They searched the neighborhood, and couldn’t find me, so they called my grandparents and the police.  Everyone was looking for me, and I had no clue.  When I walked home from their house, I was met with quite a show, and I didn’t even understand why.  Wendy and Ron were very loving people and accepted me into their home often.  It was hard when they moved to the country, because I really liked the whole family.

The East Wayland neighborhood itself was quiet.  The grass was always green, and the neighbors were always friendly.  In fact, I don’t remember a single neighbor being troublesome or rowdy.  The homes were clean, and all things were orderly.  There weren’t many fences, and I always felt safe there.  Looking back, even though I always felt people were talking about me, telling my parents what I was doing, where I was going and generally “nosy” and “getting in my business”; I view it as a sort of utopia, where children play and laugh and run around, going into each other’s homes and are safe no matter where they are.  I wish my kids could visit my neighborhood, the way it was back then.