Remembering Your Neighborhood Kids

You may have seen this poster quote on Facebook, maybe more than once. There's truth in what it says. I bet you can close your eyes and bring back that whole group of neighborhood kids who were your friends, sometimes enemies, occasionally irritating, there for you and more. You knew each one pretty well.

You knew who would cry easily, who would get angry instead of crying, who would comfort anyone who needed it. When you dig deep into your memory bank, they almost seem like actors in a movie. Each one was an individual with different character traits. 

I had the good fortune to grow up in a large apartment complex in a Chicago suburb. Each section of the apartments had its own back courtyard where the kids played. I knew a few who lived in the other courtyard, but they mostly stayed in their section, and we played in our own area. 

Besides being a play area for the kids, that courtyard was where our mothers hung laundry when the weather was nice. That curtailed our games somewhat but never stopped us completely. 

G.B. was an only child whose father had died. His mother protected him like he was the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia. Chubby and always clean, this kid had to constantly run up two flights of stairs to finish his orange juice or this or that. His mother stood on the back porch and hollered for him to come upstairs to do this or that. "You can go right back," she'd say. Poor kid hustled up the stairs as fast as his chunky legs would take him, do whatever needed doing and fly back down to the courtyard to play with the other kids. He often left the porch with his mother wiping his face with a wet cloth. Poor kid was nearly smothered by her. No one ever teased him, maybe because we felt sorry for him. 

Jimmy was an Italian boy a little older than most of us. He had dark, curly hair and wore leather wristbands. His mother had some kind of health problem. They lived in a first-floor apartment. His mom came out onto their porch to call him in a voice that sounded so weak, but Jimmy was tuned in to her and always responded right away. This boy laughed a lot and could run fast.

I remember the coonskin hat Robbie wore everywhere. Those hats with the raccoon tail were very trendy at the time. His teeth were spaced far apart, but no one teased him. Probably because he was a fun kid to be around. 

Sally and her little sister, Susie, were often in the courtyard. Sally was nearly 4 years older than I. Her long blonde hair, pretty blue eyes and sweet disposition all led to my adoration of her. Susie was a true tomboy, completely unlike her very feminine older sister. Susie was round as a kewpie doll, kept her hair cut short and didn't like girlie clothes, but she could run faster than most of the boys. She was the one they picked first to be on their team. 

John was the janitor's son, and he had a blazing temper. He was either bullying one of the kids or crying when they hit back. He wore pants that didn't fit very well and was always hitching them up. 

Billy lived across the alley in a one-family house, something foreign to us apartment kids. He had flaming red hair, pale white skin, and freckles. He came across the alley to the courtyard to play with us quite often

We had our spats, but for the most part, we all got along and played games, rode our bikes and sat on the steps and talked. 

There were others including my brothers and the much younger children, most of whom I babysat many times. Their mothers knew me as a responsible girl and one who liked to take care of children, so I never lacked for babysitting jobs. 

When I've written stories for children, I've used some of those neighborhood kids to create my characters. You can do the same. 

For an exercise, choose several of the kids in your neighborhood, the ones with whom you walked to school, played games and indulged in long kid-like conversations. Write a paragraph about each one. Describe physical characteristics, personality, hang-ups--anything you remember about each. I gave only very short descriptions above, but you can enlarge on the ones you select to write about. 

As you write, more memories may surface. We are pushed to write family stories, and that's fine, but those neighborhood kids were a big part of our lives as we grew up. Even kids who lived on a farm knew the kids from nearby farms. Their 'neighborhood' was just a lot bigger than ours.