Dirt, Leaves, and Other People's Trees

As you may know, I grew up in a small town. In fact, there's a picture of my small town in the upper left hand corner of this blog. As a young girl in a small town, I must tell you I was a brat.

This may surprise most of you that I would say this. After all, I'm such a kind church going lady nowadays. As a young girl, I thought of the entire neighborhood as my playground. This probably has something to do with the fact that I was related to at least three different families within a hundred yards from my front door. Also, the other neighborhood kids were all somehow related. This is why I married out of town. (Though this is not the only reason.)

Back in 1980, we woke to church bells, we ate lunch and supper to church bells, and fell asleep to church bells. We knew when we heard the bells it was time to go home either to eat or get ready for bed.

Our neighborhood was prime for kids. We lived next to the high school, three blocks from the Catholic school (and it's play ground), and one block from Tom's yard. Now, I'm sure you just don't understand the absolute coolness of Tom's yard. Tom had a great wooded path on a hill that led down to the football field and river. Tom also had a great dog named Sally.

Sally was a mutt with dark red curly hair and a big smile. Every morning, we'd wake up and go visit Sally over at Tom's. Tom had a great sense of humor. He didn't mind it if we were in his yard all afternoon playing tin can alley or picking his flowers. I mean think about it, he had fifty football players tramping down his yard every morning and every lunch. This guy was basically a saint. A saint high on pot, but a saint none the less.

I remember knocking his door and visiting him every chance we got. Then, we'd tell him knock knock jokes. How annoying is that? Tom didn't seem to mind. One time he had a knock knock joke for us.

Knock Knock
Who's there?
Madam
Madam who?
Madam foot's caught in the door.

Oh! We laughed at that one. I still laugh when I think of that joke.

My favorite was when Sally would have puppies. They were best. I'd always bring one home and tell mom that Tom wouldn't mind. Mom would make me bring the puppy back home. I can't begin to tell you how many times a puppy peed on me, and I'd just let it air dry.

Another great aspect of Tom's yard was that people used his hill as a dump. I found an old gutted piano and convinced my friends that it was a harp. I'd practice on those rusty strings for hours at a time. Tom had privilege to private concerts. What a lucky guy.