4 posts tagged “childhood”

Famed folk singer Odetta passed away last night.  Hers was the voice of my childhood.  When I was 5 years old, my parents bought the Odetta album One Grain of Sand.  I wore the grooves on that record out, replaying over and over again songs like Sail Away Ladies, Moses Moses, Midnight Special and She Moved Through the Fair, to name a few.  Here is a You-Tube video which pays tribute to Odetta, to the music of Midnight Special.

What's your favorite scent?

Street tar.  It's the smell of early childhood for me.  The street which went past my house was full of cracks.  Every few months, the town street crew would show up, and retar those cracks which needed it.  I used to love the smell of tar as they melted it in those big ugly machines.  Even now, whenever I smell it, I am instantly transported back to Sausalito in the early '60s,  I can almost feel the cold clammy air on my arms, and see the waves of fog rolling over the hills above the highway.

I culled this list from a list of questions on a genealogy forum; here's the full list, for anyone who might be interested.

1.  What is your earliest childhood memory?

I remember being in a baby swing.  The swing was made of white canvas, and the springs were big and strong. 

2.  Why did your parents select your name for you?  Did you have a nickname?

My first name was my father's mother's brother's name.  He had put my father through college.  My middle name is the same as my father's first name.  My first name is the kind which you either mask with a nickname, or fight for.  I have no nickname.

3.  What kind of games did you play growing up?

I used to go to the playground a lot.  I loved to swing as high as I could.  There was a twisty slide at the playground near my house.  I would take Crisco and wax paper, and slick up the slide, so I could go down as fast as possible.  I loved Hide and Seek, because I was an expert hider.  I was the kind whom others eventually got bored looking for. 

4.  What was your favorite toy, and why?

I used to love the TV show "Have Gun, Will Travel".  (Most of you are way to young to have ever heard of this show.  Richard Boone played a gun for hire in the Old West.)  I had a two-gun and holster set based on the series.  Boy did I love to "draw".

5.  What was your favorite thing to do for fun?

Ben Chamberlain lived across the street.  He had a black lab he had named Sigmund.  I used to love to take him down the stairs to the small beach, and to throw a stick or ball for him.  When Ben passed away, we adopted Sigmund.

6.  Did you receive an allowance?  How much?  Did you save your money or spend it?

Twenty-five cents a week.  Even in those days, that wasn't a lot of money.  Certainly not enough to save.  But enough for five Hershey Bars at the grocery store down at the bottom of the hill.

7.  Who were your childhood heroes?

Wilma Hall.  She helped my mom with us and with cleaning the house.  Wilma was the first person of color I knew.  She was also the head of the local NAACP chapter.  She taught me how to be loving and strong at the same time.

Jimmy Purcell.  Jimmy had an apartment upstairs.  He used to make me silver dollar pancakes on Sunday mornings.  Then I would sit around as he and his friends played jazz together.  He taught me how to be a gentle man.

Winston Churchill.  I read his books on World War II, listened to recordings of his speeches, and watched his funeral on TV.  He taught me that there are times when fear is less important than honor.

Mary Baker Eddy.  I was raised in the Christian Science faith.  She taught me that Love is infinitely important.  She also taught me that there was no "them"; nobody different from, better than, or worse than me.

Geneva O'Bryan.  My mother's mother.  She taught me that laughter and faith were intimately intertwined.

8.  What were your favorite songs and music?

Odetta: Moses, Moses

William Walton: Soundtrack for Olivier's Henry V

Dave Brubeck: Blue Rondo a la Turk

Beatles:  Michelle

9.  What world events had the most impact on you when you were growing up?  Did any of them personally effect your family?

The space program was a huge deal in our house.  We watched every single launch, and the landing on the moon was like a religious event.  I still have chills when I think about it.

Later, the Watergate hearings ultimately changed my view of politics, and taught me that nobody was above the Constitution.

10.  Of all the things you learned from your parents, which do you feel was most valuable?

From my father, optimism.  From my mother, that every person is important.

I tag ed'sperience, Candy Sparks, and LaidOutInLavender, and invite them to share their answers.

Billy was playing by himself in the empty lot.  There was little there but a few tin cans laying on an intermittently level dusty patch of urban ruin.  There was nothing to set the cans on, so Billy was lining the rusty metal up against the grey-wood eight-foot high fence separating the back of the lot from the apartment buildings behind.  He dug small chunks of broken concrete out of the dirt, asked the cans for final words, and slung the rocks at them.  Usually, he missed; but the sound of pressed gravel hitting the fence made a satisfyingly loud impression on the neighborhood.  It was a hazy early autumn Saturday, with just enough breeze to send the clothes pinned to lines between grimy buildings into a banner-like flutter from time to time.

A group of six older kids, evenly divided by gender, broke Billy's reverie.  "Scram kid", shouted Cager, the oldest boy.  "We don't need no snot-nosed short-panted whiny brats buggin' us while we get down to business.  Get lost before I hit you harder than your pop hits your ma."  Billy retreated, not off the lot, but far enough away to run, and near enough to watch.  Cager feinted a move, but Billy stood fast.

Cager turned to the oldest girl.  "So Biddy, we're here.  How you gonna show girls are better than boys?"  Dob snickered.  "Hey Dot, why don't ya squat and pee for a quarter, like last week?  That'd show Cager."  Dot shot a murderous look at Dob, but said nothing.  "I'll tell you how, Cager.  Ringer.  One on one.  Your best shooter against my best shooter."  Cager snorted.  "Nobody never beats Sandy.  Sure not no girl."  "Nonie'll beat him like a rug.", Biddy retorted.  "We playin' for fair?", Sandy asked.  "Nope", said Nonie.  "Keepsies."  It suddenly seemed as if the air had chilled, and there was a percussive sound of the sharp intake of breath.  Winner take all.  This was serious.  Sandy's eyes narrowed, his lips thinned, and his shoulders rose as he paused, then nodded.  "Done."

Dot ran off to get the mibs, as Sandy and Nonie each pulled out their best shooter marble.  By the time Dot came back, word had spread, and another half-dozen kids had appeared.  Cager and Biddy scouted the lot, and settled on a fairly level spot.  One of the new kids, presumed to be neutral, was assigned to scratch out a rough circle.  Since Dot had gotten the mibs, Dob volunteered to make the cross.  Thirteen mibs in a ten foot ring.  First to knock out seven gets all the marbles.

Nonie waved over Billy, and gave him her bag; Sandy followed suit.  Cager, feeling the pressure, growled at Billy.  "Back off milk-breath.  But you better not take off with those marbles."  Billy moved away, without taking his eyes off Cager.

It was now dusk.  The kids surrounded the ring, leaving slots for the combatants.  Sandy won the lag, and got to shoot  first.  His shooter was an alley, black as midnight, colored marble, nicked by use; so big it was barely regulation.  Nonie's was smaller, an aggie, iridescent and smooth.

Sandy knuckled down, and let his first shot go.  Smack!  First mib out.  Second mib out.  Third mib out.  Then, on his fourth shot, his shooter hit a tiny knob of concrete pushing up out of the dirt, and veered wide.  Now it was Nonie's turn.

Using a lighter marble, rather than knuckling down, Nonnie was histing.  Her shot was on the fly, not the ground.  Plunk!  One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  But on Nonie's fifth shot, the wind suddenly gusted, rattling the clothes like castanets.  The aggie hit nothing but dirt, as Nonie grimaced distgustedly.

Sandy smiled, and hunkered down.  Four.  Five.  Six.  But Sandy forgot to wipe his alley off, and a small piece of dirt on it threw his shot off enough so that he hit the seventh mib with a glancing blow.  It moved, but not out of the ring.  Cager groaned.

Nonie lined up five.  Plunk out.  Six.  Plunk out.  The last mib was on the far side from Nonie.  It was a beast of a shot to make.  And since the mib was closer to Sandy, it was game over if she missed.  Nonie held her aggie up to the fading sun, checking for flaws.  None found, she settled down, pursed her lips, and let fly.

Bliss for the winner, loser cries.