Elementary School years were a pretty good time for me. My family moved when I was in the second grade, from Tampa, where we had been living in rental homes, to Orange Park, a “bed room” community south of Jacksonville. Our house sat at the main entrance to the school where I would attend the remainder of 2nd and continue through the 6th grade.
Our neighborhood was growing. Some sections were a few years old when we arrived. We were the first owners of our house, and I would watch new streets be developed and new opportunities to explore. There were plenty of woods around, not yet touched by the developers. There were also the new construction areas where we would walk through homes before the doors were secured. As for the people, it was mostly what we might call “lower middle class.” This was a military town and our neighborhood tended toward the enlisted troops. When we arrived, the family across the street included a father who was a Sargent in the Marine Corps. Of course, the enlisted men didn’t stay long and that led to a rather high turnover in some of the houses. Not everyone was active military. There were also retired military, those who served a few years, and believe it or not, a number of families that were non-military, like mine. It was a good place to grow up, as a kid: lots of other kids up and down every street.
With so many memories of that time in my life, I couldn’t begin to do justice in this brief reflection. So let me jump to the main event. The school yard was full of kids during a recess period. We were all running back and forth, “shooting” with our fingers, playing like we were shot and falling down, then getting up to start another chase. As I was running after one friend, another pushed me from the side. I fell awkwardly, landing on my shoulder. Ouch! End of the game, for me. It was also at the end of the school day, thankfully. My older sister, Janice, was in the fifth grade. My mom was called. Arrangements were made for Janice to help me to get home with my books. X-rays revealed what we all knew, the collar bone was broken. At that time they still used plaster casts for broken bones. I had the pleasure of a “figure 8” cast across my upper back, holding my shoulders into a soldiers “Attention!” posture. That was cool! The bad news, however, was that there would be no tree climbing and no swimming until the cast came off. Truth be told, the first few days I didn’t feel much like climbing or swimming or running or riding my bike. And, bones begin to heal, and pain lessens, and mobility increases, and it seems to take forever for the cast to be removed!
My best friend, from next door, Ty (short for Tyler) was great for getting me out and sometimes getting me into trouble. (We won’t go there, right now.) We were out exploring the woods, one of our favorite past-times. Walking and talking, we came upon a pool in our path. A recession in the ground apparently became an impromptu retaining pond for local run off during recent storms. The pond was rather wide. Woods were too thick on the sides. “We can’t go over it. We can’t go under it. We can’t go around it. Might as well go through it!” Oh, Yea! We started wading through. It got deeper. We kept going. A tree was down. Ty and I climbed up the branches, out of the water, briefly. Oops! Branch broke! Now, I’m in trouble. Not only is the cast smelly from weeks of sweat, now the stagnant pond water is soaking in. Oh, well. We kept going. Great after-noon.
For the most part, I would say that my mom was very tolerant. I don’t remember getting into serious trouble when I got home, that day. It does seem to me, though, that it wasn’t long after that when the cast was removed. Ty was my best friend for the few years that he lived next door. When he moved another family moved in. This time, the kid in the family was a Girl! Yuck! My younger sister, Joan, was happy. She had a new friend. As for me, I continued to explore the neighborhoods, explore new friends, explore the woods, climb our trees. Mostly, what I remember about those years was that there were always friends around. You didn’t need to look far to find someone who was ready to play.
Our neighborhood was growing. Some sections were a few years old when we arrived. We were the first owners of our house, and I would watch new streets be developed and new opportunities to explore. There were plenty of woods around, not yet touched by the developers. There were also the new construction areas where we would walk through homes before the doors were secured. As for the people, it was mostly what we might call “lower middle class.” This was a military town and our neighborhood tended toward the enlisted troops. When we arrived, the family across the street included a father who was a Sargent in the Marine Corps. Of course, the enlisted men didn’t stay long and that led to a rather high turnover in some of the houses. Not everyone was active military. There were also retired military, those who served a few years, and believe it or not, a number of families that were non-military, like mine. It was a good place to grow up, as a kid: lots of other kids up and down every street.
With so many memories of that time in my life, I couldn’t begin to do justice in this brief reflection. So let me jump to the main event. The school yard was full of kids during a recess period. We were all running back and forth, “shooting” with our fingers, playing like we were shot and falling down, then getting up to start another chase. As I was running after one friend, another pushed me from the side. I fell awkwardly, landing on my shoulder. Ouch! End of the game, for me. It was also at the end of the school day, thankfully. My older sister, Janice, was in the fifth grade. My mom was called. Arrangements were made for Janice to help me to get home with my books. X-rays revealed what we all knew, the collar bone was broken. At that time they still used plaster casts for broken bones. I had the pleasure of a “figure 8” cast across my upper back, holding my shoulders into a soldiers “Attention!” posture. That was cool! The bad news, however, was that there would be no tree climbing and no swimming until the cast came off. Truth be told, the first few days I didn’t feel much like climbing or swimming or running or riding my bike. And, bones begin to heal, and pain lessens, and mobility increases, and it seems to take forever for the cast to be removed!
My best friend, from next door, Ty (short for Tyler) was great for getting me out and sometimes getting me into trouble. (We won’t go there, right now.) We were out exploring the woods, one of our favorite past-times. Walking and talking, we came upon a pool in our path. A recession in the ground apparently became an impromptu retaining pond for local run off during recent storms. The pond was rather wide. Woods were too thick on the sides. “We can’t go over it. We can’t go under it. We can’t go around it. Might as well go through it!” Oh, Yea! We started wading through. It got deeper. We kept going. A tree was down. Ty and I climbed up the branches, out of the water, briefly. Oops! Branch broke! Now, I’m in trouble. Not only is the cast smelly from weeks of sweat, now the stagnant pond water is soaking in. Oh, well. We kept going. Great after-noon.
For the most part, I would say that my mom was very tolerant. I don’t remember getting into serious trouble when I got home, that day. It does seem to me, though, that it wasn’t long after that when the cast was removed. Ty was my best friend for the few years that he lived next door. When he moved another family moved in. This time, the kid in the family was a Girl! Yuck! My younger sister, Joan, was happy. She had a new friend. As for me, I continued to explore the neighborhoods, explore new friends, explore the woods, climb our trees. Mostly, what I remember about those years was that there were always friends around. You didn’t need to look far to find someone who was ready to play.
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