"Deciding to remember, and what to remember, is how we decide who we are." - Robert Pinsky
When Kendall's soccer game was canceled last Saturday morning, Tom and I grabbed that chance to take a walk through my old neighborhood where my parents still live. We headed for a path that meanders through the heart of Deepwater, a twenty-or-so-acre island of mowed green grass dotted with schools, ball fields, playgrounds and a few old pine, ash and oak trees.
The neighborhood fans out from the island in waves representing decades long gone, recognizable in the styles of the houses. I grew up in the "50's" wave; my parents bought the house brand new when Donnie was a baby...not much later than '54, I guess. Businesses and churches are shoved to the outer perimeter, except for a quaint white-steepled Methodist. That's where Kathy was married...and that's the Englishbee house, where I took piano lessons...and Becky's house is just through that field...
That's what happens when I'm in the old neighborhood: memories overlay reality...my mind straddles the past and the present...surrounded by Deepwater, I start "swimming through memories." My friend Robert Duncan actually thought of that phrase - we've been writing back and forth, sharing our memories of growing up in Deepwater...sagas that weave in and out of each other, parallel, and sometimes overlap. There are others I've become friends with just recently, drawn together merely because we grew up in the same neighborhood, even if we were never friends before.
"Every thread of gold is valuable. So is every moment of time." - John Mason
Tom's heard it all before - this litany of my memories. He just tunes it out now. This is the sidewalk I followed to school each morning...there's Mike Delaney's house on the left. My old elementary school is still recognizable through the layers of time, despite the wear and tear and changes - just like me. We used to have races at the end of that middle wing every morning before school in 2nd grade.
You won't find Deepwater on a map. Physically, it's part of Pasadena; spiritually (as in high school spirit), it believes in Deer Park, all the way. It's a neighborhood with an identity issue, not quite sure who it belongs to. A rebel with a chip on its shoulder.
But Deepwater is part of my identity - it still helps define who I am and connects me to others who feel the same way, whether they rode their bikes around these blocks in 1963, 1973 or 1983.
An early childhood center now sits between the elementary school and the junior high where there used to be a playground...one of those dangerous playgrounds that got banned years ago - metal slides, large and small...tall swings...see-saws...jungle gyms. Beside the playground, backstops lined up neatly, busy with softball and baseball teams practicing each spring. The smell of clover filled the air, and you had to be on the lookout for bees if you went barefoot. That was Ms. Haygood's classroom, there, facing out of the last wing.
The junior high hasn't changed much at all. Not from this angle anyway. And neither has the ball park. I spent so many nights there watching Donnie play...he was on the Orioles - they wore orange uniforms, so I always ate orange pixie sticks. I'd chase down homeruns and foul balls so I could return them to the concession stand and get a snowcone. I remember one night I got to keep score - I sat out there on the ledge and changed out the numbers. That was so cool...
My softball team, the Fawns, lost every single game except one - the one we tied. I played pitcher and shortstop...
That's Rae's house on the corner. And Teason lived right down there. Patti lived down there. And that's the Van Rheen house...
This house on the corner we called the haunted house, just because we thought every neighborhood should have one. Cindy lived here, and, oh, Philip Wise lived here. I had such a crush on him in third grade...
"Recall it as often as you wish, a happy memory never wears out." - Libbie Fudim
