Kids in the Neighborhood

 

Our poster today is right on. In a flash, I could list all the kids in my neighborhood and see them in my mind's eye. I believe most of us could do the same.

I grew up in a suburb of Chicago in a large, three story apartment building. It had around 63 apartments overall, divided into sections of 7 in a stairwell. The largest section fronted Garfield Street while the side sections were on Clarence and Wesley Avenues. Not every apartment had children, but the majority did. Kids of all ages, from infants to high school teens. 

The back of our building was divided into two large courtyards with stairways and back entrances to half the front side of the building and one of the side parts. In our courtyard, there were plenty of kids to play with, so we had no need to venture further down the alley to the other courtyard where more kids played. We also played with a few who lived across the alley in real houses. We apartment dwellers thought they were so lucky, and the kids from the houses envied our big group of playmates. 

There were both one and two bedroom apartments. The larger ones usually housed families with one or more children. I adored the older girls, one family in particular. The Walters had three daughters. The middle girl, Sally, was 3 years older than I, and the youngest one, Susie younger than I.. Susie was closer to may age, but Sally was the one I liked best. The three had blonde hair and blue eyes. They were all sweet in personality and fun to be with. Sally eloped when only 17. She left a note written in lipstick on the bathroom mirror. The next year, she was pregnant and suddenly came to visit my mother more than me. As time went on, we stayed in touch, first through visits, then letters when I moved away and finally the once-a-year Christmas card and note. I lost her two years ago, but when I think of her, I see that pretty girl with long blonde hair and the sweetest smile in the courtyard. 

The Connelly kids were also blondies but skinny and ornery. They loved to tease and taunt the rest of us and laugh when someone else fell down. Even so, they were part of the gang and we accepted them. 

G.B. Lauber--sounds like a name on an office door--was an only child whose father had died in WWII. He was one of the younger kids, but he loved being in the courtyard with the rest of us. He was a Momma's Boy. To this day, I can hear his mother calling from the second floor--"G.B., come and get your orange juice." He obediently ran up the stairs, gulped down the proffered juice and hurried back to whatever game we were playing.Dark hair, round face, big eyes and a little on the chubby side. 

Jimmie Trimarco was older than most of us. He was overweight, had curly hair and dark brown eyes. He wore leather wristbands. He didn't mingle with us, but sat on the porch steps and watched. We were a bit scared of this silent boy.

One apartment was home to the Gunn family. And yes, one of the three boys was named Tommy. Being the WWII years, we all knew about Tommy guns, but no one ever teased him about his name. All three boys were accomplished in games and running. I can see them running in and out between the sheets some mother had hung to dry in the courtyard. They loved doing it, even when a mother hollered at them. They stopped until the mother had gone inside, and then...

Bill Peaslee lived in a big, yellow house across the alley from our courtyard. He played with us as much as he did with the kids on his block. He was also in my grade school classes. Red hair and freckles, a Mickey Rooney kind of kid who grew up to be a policeman. 

There were many more. Sally was the only one I kept in touch with over the years. I babysat for many of the smaller kids and babies in the building. I could make a list of the ones that were fun to take care of and those who whined and cried or gave me problems. I've often wondered how each of them turned out as adults. 

Yes, I could look back at those kids in my neighborhood and describe each one in detail. You can probably do the same with the neighborhood kids you grew up with. 

As an exercise today, pick two or three of those children and write a character sketch. Many of the characters in the stories we write hold the physical and behavioral traits of kids we knew once upon a time. We may use some of them on which we base a character without even realizing it. They have a place in our subconscious.