Looking Back


It has occurred to me that living near a family with twelve kids may not be desirable. When trying to sell a house, this would not be a selling point. You would not say, “The house next door has twelve kids. Yes, you heard me correctly, twelve! It will be so fun to live next to that hot mess of kids, abandoned bikes (of questionable functionality), and yard debris (toys, shoes, random baseball bats). Welcome home!” As the eleventh of the twelve, I never knew any differently. I always assumed that the neighborhood revolved around our house and the pool. Remember, this was a time when kids were released in the morning, checked in at lunch and dinner, and finally returned after it got dark. It seems perfect until there is an uncountable mass of kids roaming the neighborhood. 

Truth is, the older kids in my family were already working jobs and being responsible by the time I was old enough to roam the neighborhood. The older kids were mythical creatures to be visited in the downstairs bedrooms, if only to observe their odd behaviors. My two oldest sisters got married the year I turned eight, although my rowdy, roaming behavior began long before that year. 

On the one hand, you have this house, where your kids will likely be loitering around, so you know where to look for them, should you need them. On the other hand, you have this pack of kids, which is far too numerous for any parent to keep track of, roaming the neighborhood, getting into who knows what trouble. Kids like that have ideas. Like my idea to go explore Summer Hill Estates while it was under construction. In fact, it was a regular area of exploration during the years of construction. It was my idea to swim in the muddy construction water, using the floating foam board insulation as a kick board. It was May and the pool wasn’t open yet. 

I also remember slicing my big toe open on some unseen construction material under that muddy water, and having to bike home with blood gushing out of my toe. Actually, I walked my bike home, since biking up the 59th Street hill was daunting on a regular day on my gearless bike. But this day, I was also losing a significant amount of blood, so we walked it, leaving a trail of blood. Thankfully, my Mom kept us up to date on our tetanus shots, because there was exactly 0% chance of me revealing my whereabouts that day. Instead, I hosed off when we got home, washed my bloody toe, wadded up paper towels around the toe, jammed the whole thing into my shoe, and continued to play. I probably needed stitches, but that would involve a confession, so that wasn’t happening. It must have been completely normal to show up at home with my clothes soaking wet and muddy, because I don’t remember that being a problem. It took a long time for that toe to heal, during which, I resumed all my normal activities. It was unlikely that Mom would take me for stitches anyway. The only time I got stitches was when I pulled the Smith’s abnormally low basketball hoop down on my head and one of the nubs that holds the net embedded itself in my head. That was too much blood for even my Mom to ignore. In my defense, the hoop was partially broken already, and the contraption holding my broken finger together got all caught up in the net, so down it came. 

See, this may not be the type of family you want to live near. And I was only one of the grubby kids running around in threadbare hand-me-downs and bare feet. The bottoms of our feet looked like worn leather by the end of the summer. But most of my friends seemed okay with the crazy house, although they would require respite breaks from our chaos. Not us though! We lived and breathed it all day, every day. The only thing that couldn’t be found at our house was food. We were not allowed to feed our friends. Mom was on a tight budget, and keeping up with feeding fourteen mouths was all she could handle. Once in awhile, she would hand out popsicles, or call the friends in for a paper thin slice of birthday cake. We never had a “real” birthday party, because everyday was a party. How do you top that? 

Have a great week everyone! May your Wednesday feel like Friday!