A very brave boy!

This is a Golf Park story. You might remember that in a previous story I said it was in Golf Park that I began to realize that there was trouble in paradise.
I remember this time so well because it was my birthday. I am not sure if I was turning 5 or 6 but for sure it was my birthday,
Mom had baked me a cake. This was the first time I remember celebrating a birthday. That doesn't mean I never had a party, I just don't remember it.
So, it's my birthday, and I'm all excited even though I don't know why. Mom and the boys said "hurray, it's your birthday!"I figured if they were glad then that meant it was a good thing. I had this cake, and something wonderful was suppose to happen. I kept asking mom when this birthday thing was going to take place. She said,"when your daddy gets home."
The man was late! Over and over I begged her to have the party. She said "no, we'll wait till daddy gets home." Well, daddy came home...boy did he come home.
He was as drunk as a skunk.Mom never could keep her mouth shut (now we know where Jerry got it from),and she flew into him like nobody's business. You, need to know that my father was 6'3" and my mother was 5'3". You would have thought that his height alone would have been enough to intimidate her, but nooooo, not my mother. There she was,RIGHT UP IN HIS FACE, and then it began.
Whenever my father drank he wanted to fight. Ususally he came out of it at the wrong end of the stick because although he was very tall he was also very thin. Looking back I believe daddy was an unhealthy person even then. He drank a lot, and smoked a lot, and probably didn't eat very well either. Alcoholics are known for refusing to eat when they start drinking and he drank often. Mom said he was drinking pretty good as a teenager. Anyway, he was in a fighting mood when he came home that evening.
The thing that stands out to me the most is not that daddy was drunk or that mom was yelling and screaming at him. I must have been use to this even though I can't recall it ever happening before. What stood out to me was I was afraid of my father for the first time that I could remember. His behavior was strange to me. He hit my mother,and knocked her out cold. Now, this is the really outstanding part. When mom fell to the floor my brother Larry knelt down beside her to see if she was OK. She didn't respond and we all thought she was dead. Larry, who was 9 or 10 yrs old, grabbed a broom and went after my father screaming," you have killed our mother!" Daddy took the broom away from him, and broke it over his knee. I do not remember what happened next. I do have a vague memory of a neighbor coming over, but it is fussy. Now, can you image a young boy taking on his father like that? He was a very brave boy who was ready to defend his family.It was something that was just natural to him. He acted immediately without any thought of what our father might do or if he would be hurt. It wasn't too long after that that we (my brothers and I)found ourselves without mother or father. I don remember why but we were alone. Larry decided that we needed help as we were children and no one was taking care of us. So, he,and Jerry, lead me and Bobby to our aunt and uncle's apartment. We had to leave Rusty behind in the crib. This exodus from our house to the promise land of Aunt Carolyn's was a fair walk indeed! What I remember was not the long walk but the wonderful smell of pine. I felt complete confidence in Larry's ability to get us where we needed to go. Not once was I afraid or concerned. The boys always protected me. I just remember the wonderful pungent aroma of pine trees.I kind of recall arriving at Aunt Carolyn's apartment but nothing after that. Larry had completed his job....get himself and the younger children to a safer place. I am sure Aunt Carolyn and Uncle Charlie called our grandmother, and went over to our house and to pick up Rusty.
These two events sound so sad, and they were, but when I think back on that time I am so grateful for my brother Larry and his courage. He was the oldest child and took on an adult responsibility. He always seemed so serious to me and compared to Jerry he was. But he carried an inner burden that often occures in a dysfunctional family. As the oldest we all looked to him for help and instead of turning away he stepped up to the plate. Thank you dear brother Larry

The best darn dirt in town!

"I love dirt, don't you Jerry?" Jerry and I were the only ones who use to eat dirt.Not any kind of dirt, mind you. Oh, no, it had to have certain qualities to it.
We liked the fine grain, grey, silky variety. we tasted all kinds just to find the "best dirt" in the neighborhood. Let's see, we lived in Golf Park at the time so we were about 5 and 7 yrs old. Maybe slightly younger.I clearly remember the day I found a gold mind of the grey silky stuff we craved. Jerry must have been at school, but I waited until he came home to tell him of my great discovery. How excited I was to find this dirt. Finally he showed up and together we rushed to the spot where our dirt was."Wait til you taste it. It's the best dirt in town!" And it was.
Larry and Jerry must have gotten skates for Christmas that same year. I did too. The only problem was I didn't know how to skate.The boys were having so much fun on their own they didn't want to help me put mine on, and show me how to stand up. I begged, probably cried, and nagged. At last good ole tender-hearted Jerry gave in and said he would show me how it was done. Besides having great dirt Golf Park was hilly. Jerry took me to his favorite spot at the top of the steepest hill, strapped on my skates, stood me up and gave a firm shove.That's how I learned to skate. I actually don't remember skating much after that, but I do remember how to stop on a down hill sidewalk on metal skates strapped to my feet on a cold January day. OUCH!

We were not heading for Emerald City

It was 1952 and we lived in the Golf Park Apartments. It was the best of times and the worst of times.There are so many memories of this place I don't know where to begin.I think it was here that I really started to be conscious of the fact that we were not on the Yellow Brick Road heading for Oz. This is where Bobby lost Charlie and where I turned 5 yrs old. We had moved from Broad Street to Golf Park. The only thing I can remember about Broad Street was the steep back steps, the black woman, Louise, that would sometimes come in and take care of us and my oldest brother,Larry, telling me if I didn't learn to tie my own shoes he was going to beat me up. Everyday I would ask Larry to tie my shoes and every time he would say "pay attention so you can learn to do it yourself". I never paid attention. One day he said-- enough! He gave me good reason to pay attention and,yes,I tied my own shoes after that.
Louise would take us to Lake Armstead to play and sometimes take me home with her. I never understood why she did that. Now I think it was because mom and dad were" in disposed." She also imprinted on my mind NEVER to let anyone touch me in an inappropriate way. Funny she did that. I realized much later how much she cared for me and how deeply concerned she must have been. When she took me home with her all the little black children would want to touch my skin and hair. They were curious. I was conscious of the fact that I was different and that some of these children and even some adults didn't like me there. After we moved to Golf Park I never saw Louise again. Living at Golf Park would be a whole new awareness of what was really going on in our family.

Charlie the doll

Back in 1952 it wasn't acceptable for little boys to have dolls.Guess who had a doll?
Yep, Bobby.I guess I needed someone to play dolls with me so Bobby got Charlie. Charlie was a rubber doll with no clothes. Bobby loved Charlie. I guess I need to mention that Bobby was only 3 years old so you don't think Bobby's sexual orientation was, you know, different. Anyway, we had a fire. Daddy got drunk and passed out while he was smoking and the mattress caught on fire. All I remember was everyone yelling and smoke burning my eyes and Bobby crying because Charlie wasn't rescued from the burning apartment. Actually, I don't think there was ever any flames just a lot of smoke.Poor Charlie, someone threw him away after the fire and Bobby never got another doll. Charlie lived in our memories for decades. Bobby had to wait until he married and had children of his own to have another boy doll...this time a real one that he named James.