|
Wilhelm Street is perhaps a half mile long dead-ending into Downs Street on the south and Williams Street on the north. Through my high school years I lived with my parents and brothers smack dab at the south corner across the street from Gerald “G.J.P.” Louy; the J.P. stood for justice of the peace. He had this homely, sourpuss daughter who looked big and mean enough to whip any guy’s ass. Lady had a permanent five o’clock shadow. She parked out front and glared daggers at us if we glanced her direction. Just for that when she pulled away from the curb we’d yell, “Hey, Audrey with the beard!” Bigger daggers. “Think ol’ G.J.P. feeds her Alpo?” “Dunno, but I’ll bet she has to stand on newspapers.” Five houses north of our home sat a rickety, run-down shack that probably never saw a coat of paint. There were plenty of loose boards on siding and porch. The owner and tenant was a slovenly, unkempt, often-inebriated character known as Charlie the Bum. Charlie was an excellent carpenter and wood-worker, but (I suppose) never wanted to apply his trade at home. We kids had a running gag with Charlie. We’d call, “Hey, Charlie, what’s your name?” He’d respond, “Just call me Shit for short!” The Williams end of Wilhelm defined the boundary of a thickly wooded park we called Latty’s Grove. It was officially christened Veterans Memorial Park, but the label never stuck; that is, the locals then and now refer to the area by its unofficial name. Among the ancient Maple, Oak, and Buckeye trees was a swing set, baseball diamond, tennis court, and basketball court. The north boundary of the park is still the Baltimore & Ohio railroad tracks, which are built-up on ballast to about twelve feet over the park level, and the easement is protected by a fence. During my tweens and early teens, I would either walk or bike to Latty’s Grove, basketball in hand, to sharpen my shooting eye and practice moves to fake-out any would-be defender. I was very effective against phantom opponents. By-and-by, friends showed up for an afternoon of either half-court or full-court scrimmaging depending on the number of participants. The first team to twenty-one (one-point per basket) won then we’d swap players. This was an almost daily occurrence during the three-month school recess. At that time, the adjacent tennis court had a rough aggregate asphalt surface guaranteed to scuff the cover from any ball within ten minutes. The surface was the same composition with which county roads were paved. We played with one ball all summer. By the end it was practically bald and bounceless. About all we managed to accomplish was learning to keep score. That said, the basketball court was worse. The surface was dirt, rolled mostly flat, but contained a few irregular bumps. Rectangular, wooden backboards and goals with chain nets stood at each end. Unless it rained occasionally the dirt court was soon pounded into dust clouds, which filled the air on every bounce and footfall. Though crude we were pleased to have the venue. See, “inside courts” were off-limits, and the only other options were neighbors’ driveways that had goals affixed to their garages. Depending on the mood and tolerance of the particular neighbor, we risked getting ran-off. The dirt surface made playing conditions challenging, but we didn’t care—nor did we know any better. Sweat transferred from body to hands to ball, which transferred soil back to us. Typically we wore T-shirts and jeans—shorts being for sissies. Within minutes hands, arms, faces, lungs, and clothing were coated with Mother Earth. I don’t have to tell you how our socks and feet looked. During the humid months of July and August we returned home resembling minstrel show end-men. The B&O also added to the ambiance and our appearance. Passenger trains when pulled by “clean” diesel engines presented no problem. Two such transports were the El Capitan and the 20th Century Limited, the latter featured in a poker scene from the motion picture, "The Sting". Both ran from New York at least as far west as Chicago and represented, according to my Dad, first-class travel. Often we’d stop our game and gawk when either train sped by, perhaps imagining ourselves onboard. A verse passed through my imagination as I tried to see somebody, anybody in the sleek, silver coaches: “The train moved too fast to make out the face in the window / The train moved so fast it had one long window faceless…” However, most passenger trains and all freight trains were pulled by noisy, puffing, cinder-belching steam engines. Black, choking, smelly “snowstorms” trailed in their wake. Adjacent rail-side properties and homes were layered with cinder particles, and thanks to the proximity of the basketball court, that was our fate as well. Not that we objected all that much; it was considered a normal part of life—something to be accepted because it was beyond our ability to do anything about. Still, a second part of the verse played through my mind: “We sweated out dreams of the future in the wind and the heat and the smoke / The sky was falling, but nobody got the joke…” But of what concern was a little air pollution to us? Homes, schools, commercial buildings, and churches were heated by coal, which required an early spring ritual of carpet beating and wall scrubbing. Before bedtime one of my winter chores was stoking the furnace. I ascended from the cellar requiring a bath before which I blew a good amount of coal dust from my nose. In addition, cigarette smoke from adults layered indoor rooms year round, but was especially “delightful” when windows remained closed. Then there was asbestos, lead paint, etc., etc. Dust? Steam engines? Big deal. Such was life in the carcinogenic communities of my youth. The following sound effects are courtesy of Al Capp: gasp, rattle, wheeze, cough, choke… Copyright by Gene Myers, author of AFTER HOURS: ADVENTURES OF AN INTERNATIONAL BUSINESSMAN (2009), Strategic Publishing Group, New York, NY – a hilarious account of the author’s overseas travels; and SONGS FROM LATTYS GROVE (2010), PublishAmerica, Fredericksburg, MD - a mildly sinister, but amusing work of fiction. Both are available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble, and available in Amazon Kindle and Nook formats. Visit www.myersamazon.com
Related Articles -
park, tennis, basketball, trains, Baltimore & Ohio, cinder-belching steam engines, air pollution, carcinogenic,
|
