The Backyard

When I look back at my childhood I realize that to a certain degree my parents had, through hard work and frugal management provided me and my sister with the American dream of a childhood home. Dad had constructed, literally from scratch, a playground that was the envy of the neighborhood. It included a self-propelled merry-go-round, swings, a glider, a slide and a teeter todder. The trees were large enough to build tree houses in and my sister had a bona fide play kitchen at the back of the yard. It was attached to an apartment Dad had constructed for my Grandmother on my Mother’s side. Likewise, an old tractor tire served not only as a sand box, but the neighborhood cats properly relieved themselves there. For that reason, we would rake the sand box to eliminate the more solid waste but after that the germs had a field day. For some reason my mother would always “encourage” a bath when we came in from backyard. They had a concrete slab poured that was large enough to create a small basketball court that later would double as a dance floor for parties.  Surrounding the yard and the exterior of the fence my mother maintained a variety of flowers that would often grace the dining room table during the spring, summer and early fall months. Always thinking of the most efficient way to do things, Dad created concrete barriers around every flower bed. This accomplished two things. First, it allowed one to water the entire flower bed without the need to continuously move the water and second, I was able to mow the lawn with virtually no need to trim the grass. The yard was encased by a white metal picket fence. The fence was so strong that it literally stopped a line drive that I hit during a backyard baseball game. Later, Dad had to pry it out because the ball was lodged halfway between two of the pickets.

After my Grandmother passed away when I was 6 years old, my parents decided to rent the apartment. The tenants ranged from a woman who was recovering from a nervous breakdown to a high school coach to a rancher’s twin daughters who lived there for their senior year. I think the twins were my favorite tenants simply because they would come out and toss oranges back and forth between the three of us so that we could make orange juice. When the oranges were perfect we would get “juiced” in the backyard.