The old neighborhood

I know a lot of folks who moved around a lot growing up, but I was not one of those folks. I lived in the same house for my entire childhood. In fact, my parents still live in that house.

A couple of years ago, my wife and I bought a house around the block from it. It gave me a chance to get reacquainted with it. Now, I’d seen the neighborhood when I would visit my parents over the years, but I guess I hadn’t really looked at it, if you know what I mean.

I don’t think there are too many people from my childhood still living in the old neighborhood. Those houses are 50 years old now and most have apparently become rental houses, or were left to become HUD or Secion 8 homes… not that there’s anything wrong with that, just an observation.

But one thing that has not changed is that it’s a family neighborhood. Recently, while riding my bike (what else is there to do during this pandemic? Might as well exercise, right), I saw kids shooting hoops, kids riding bikes, kids drawing with chalk on the driveway. It instantly reminded me of being 10 years old and playing freeze tag and swinging statues and such with the kids in the neighborhood. Sure, the kids changed as folks came and went, but there were always youngsters around for a game of baseball or chase or hide-and-seek.

My kids are pretty much grown now, and the one left at home is already into the terrible teens, so I have to rely on the neighborhood kids to stoke my nostalgic fires… at least until I get me some grandkids. And then a new generation can keep the neighborhood alive…