When Kids Played Outside.

My neighborhood has changed so much over the years. The racial makeup, economic status and no one really talks to anyone now. I think the last time we talked was when Hurricane Irene killed the power and out of boredom, people came outside to entertain themselves. As soon as the power came back, everyone retreated inside to their TV.

It wasn't all Walton's Mountain either back when I grew up. Then as now, people are people and you had your jerks and saints. Today, I couldn't tell you how many of the two live on this street, no one comes out now.

Then we had our recluses, braggarts, nosey meddlers, cranky retirees, up and coming young sophisticates and everything else in between that. I don't remember anyone not working, except the stay at home moms, which you never see today. The Moms who did work were either waitresses or secretaries then and that was part time. Our Moms ran from seemingly perfect Martha Stewarts to the haircurlered-housecoat-cigarette in the mouth while they talked ones.

The Dads you saw after 5pm or on the weekends. The ones in our neighborhood worked mostly blue-collar jobs and perhaps a few professionals. You could find the Dads, in their Lazy Boy loungers or you saw them pushing a lawn mower, the old kind with the curved blades, on the weekends.

The only ones left in the original crew from then are three very elderly women who have long since lost their husbands. They still gossip on the phone today as then with one another.

Did we all get along in happy concord? Hell no! Neighborhood politics were as hot then as it would be in today's neighborhood associations. There were a few times we witnessed the Moms screeching at one another like two cats late at night over territory. My Mom was one of them to be sure. What was great about that, the Moms would hang out their window and trade accusations about some small annoyance. The lawn not cut, the garbage cans left out one day longer than usual or mostly, about their kids. It would escalate into insults about the others families shortcomings to the point where one of the Moms would slam her window shut in a final “Hmmph!”

Then around 5pm, when all the Dads came home, they'd have to play peace negotiator with the other husbands and I saw this occur countless times. The Dads would brush off their own wives' bitchiness and concluded that women “were like that” and each promised to quell their own. The men never took up the gauntlet to start their wive's argument anew. Who cares if their little Suzy or Johnny were kicking pickets out of the fence, that was easy to fix.

I mentioned earlier about the kinds of families we had here. Some were “proper” and others were just gypsy camps. Pamela S, a girl I knew, came from the proper version. She always wore a dress (Girl don't wear “pants!”) and was impeccably clean. I wouldn't call her snooty but the appearance of a perfect house, perfect clothing and a perfect school record made some of us wonder.

None of us kids were allowed to be inside her home as we were unkempt and destructive according to her Mom. Her Mom was right. We boys then were dirty and at times hard to control. We would've tramped dust into the house and knocked something over eventually. If we played it was in her yard and it was “structured” play. No off the cuff games allowed in that yard with Pamela's mom.

Though, I can remember Pamela wanting to bust loose and just play like some of the boys, and certainly, like some of the tomboys like Gail. But inside her head, I'm sure, was Mom's restriction that it wasn't allowed for her. Pamela did find a way to rebel against Mom later when she reached her teens. She became the blow job Queen of the neighborhood. Take that Mom!

The Casey family was way more fun. The Casey's were a huge Irish family with kids ranging from 22 years of age to 2. They believed the Pope's admonition to “multiply” and they did so like bunnies.

The Casey household was a gypsy camp. The home had peeling paint, had no lawn of any kind save dirt and ruts. The vegetation was dying due to abuse and neglect. It was a pure, fun playground for kids! Here was a Mom who was in a housecoat shouting out her window for this or that, while a butt was hanging in her mouth.

What we couldn't get away with in Pamela's yard, due to her ever spying Mother, we could in Casey’s. Their Mom was way too busy doing laundry or managing the kids to pay attention to what trouble we were cooking up in her yard. If we were caught, it wasn't treated as a Class A felony.  The only reprimand was a simple,”Now cut that out!”

We did get more than a simple “cut that out” one day when we tried to get the Casey family dog, Dano, up the ladder to make him slip down the backyard slide. Dano was a happy go lucky mongrel who probably weighed 55lbs. So it was an effort for us 7 year old boys to heft him up, and carry him to the top of the slide and them push him down it. Dana started to get very upset being up so high, considering all the whining he did, but we managed to shove Dano down the slide with a “Wow, Let's do it AGAIN!”

Dano kept running away though.

We cornered him, brought him back and we boys again, struggled to get that dog up the ladder and this time, turn him around so he'd go down backwards. Dano kept protesting with many whines and yelps. Luckily for us, he was never a biter.

Then the Casey Mom appears in the window and sees her boys, me and a few others trying to turn Dano around so he'd go down the slide ass first.

“What the...BOYS! GET THAT POOR DOG DOWN NOW!”

To which, Mark, the older son there says, “Mom, Dano likes it...He's having fun!”

“OH BULL**** (Their Mom was pretty good about holding back her swearing, most times.) I CAN HEAR HIM WHINING FROM IN HERE! GET HIM DOWN NOW!”

Only in the Casey yard could we invent experiments to have fun with, as long as Mom was busy elsewhere.

I did like Mrs Casey to tell the truth, she was a kind but harried Mom.