The First Time I Was Afraid

March 05, 2010

I guess it was grammar school. No, I don’t guess, it WAS grammar school. I was living with the family on the first floor of a two story house mmy folks were in the process of buying. The house was located on a semi-busy street in one of New York City’s boroughs. The one closest to another state to the left on maps. To the right is ocean so I’mm guessing’ you’re guessing pretty close. Are you?

A city bus stop began only about ten feet to the right of what long ago was a tiny driveway that separated our house from the one next door. The small space divider had been cemented over by who knows how many owners before. The driveway was actually what we called an alley; no car fit through its width.

The bus stop continued to the corner and to the end of our block. Those four corners were where our street ran perpendicular to the other and much busier street. Our house was across the street from an asphalt playground that had a ten foot cyclone fence surrounding it on all sides of its rectangle. The entryway to the playground was on the street that ran perpendicular to ours and up about half a block; that was about 70; 80 feet or so. (25 meters)

It’s two swinging out and in gates were locked every night. That didn’t stop us when we were old enough to climb which didn’t happen very often in those days either; by us or anyone else for that matter. Respect for property that belonged to others was rampant. Not to mention the fact that the playground wasn’t lit at all during closing time like one would see years later. All day for us was enough.

Across from the gates was a huge and very noisy city bus garage. More times than I can remember, the sounds of bus horns as well as the loud beeps and voices proclaiming unclear things came drifting like intruders into mmy bedroom windows, no matter the time of day or night. Winters not as much because their doors and our windows were closed to conserve a little heat.

MMy brother and I shared the small room with a closet. We had bunk beds that at times were placed one on top of the other and some times not. I don’t remember why the changes happened more than once but I guess it had to do with a spatial question. There was very little when the bunks were un-bunked.

There were two windows in the room. They were tall in those days; single paned, double hung things. Some summers they had screens on them that covered the entire height of each window. Other times the folks would put in these little slider things that were about eight inches tall and reaching from one end of the window to the other. The weight of the window sitting on top of these things weren’t very bug proof. This is how the mosquitoes still got in. It wasn’t a mystery. I’d imagine any number of other openings weren’t closed all the time.

One window was situated right next to the double door closet. It and the closet basically took up the whole wall of that side. That side faced the street in all its glory with rackets galore heard in most crowded cities or while living across the street from a school or industry. In this case as I’ve said, it was a playground.

The other window faced the house next door. Old Mr. Huber’s house. If we opened that window we could touch his shingles and pick ants from the crevices. The never ending army used the separate tracks for either lines of communication or like an African Safari; the armies of ascending, descending, horizontally and vertically hungry marauders of shade would bring food from one place to wherever their Queen was in waiting.

They then were to return to her camp and once again go out for more and more. Ants seem to be a revolving door of moving every which way specifically for food gathering or banding together to combat other ants.

If you’ve ever witnessed an ant colony for any amount of time, then you know they never stop except for taking little breaks after a dose of Raid or a few hammer type encounters. These would only be short breaks of course because the Queen was still waiting. Even when you see just one ant they have the same purpose; to scurry to and fro until death or unfortunately for them an ant eater.

I can distinctly remember stored in the deepest fissures of this brain powered by not much anymore, trucks with chain drives as well as more modern machinery in later years as well as busses, cars, and walking traffic of every size, age and shape passed by our front window.

During most days including some nights the street was alive with everything you can imagine and some you probably can’t. It was more diversified than a box of crayons; and writely so. Humanity was close at hand at all times.

Not too far of a walking distance from the house as little tykes we rode our bikes to as far as we dared in any direction. We never got lost of course but we did manage to explore many places. One of them during summer months mostly was a stadium located a little less than a mile from our house.

Weissglass Stadium and its surrounds as I’ve mentioned in another blog story before this one, was a place we visited on many of those exploring occasions. During the summers there were all sorts of buy a ticket to this, that or those outdoors happenings. Wresting and boxing matches, high school football and baseball games, tiny traveling circuses, midget car races on the almost circular asphalt track, demolition derby’s and more was the stadiums entertainment.

Our all time sneak in times were the every Saturday night in summer Stock Car races. I can’t say I ever watch those things now because as an adult I just distanced mmyself from that kind of a thing. Back then watching the crashes and hearing those engines whine with all the power and crowd noise emanating all that energy was just irresistible to us young boys and girls.

I can remember our opened windows of summer. Many times the sounds of those racing cars came loud and clear through the window screens. We could also hear the intermittent roars of the crowds as maybe a winner was announced or some car actually crossed the finish line. Sometimes I smelled the exhaust and saw slight clouds of dust which was amazing considering the distance.

Now I could care less about racing engines of any kind except maybe if two hearses were racing to see who would find mme first. NASCAR? Indianapolis 500? The Winston 4 million or whatever it is and such? Sorry. I appreciate what they do of course and glad others find happiness in their running circles around each other but for some reason I lost interest in who wins, loses or ties the knot.

One thing I DO remember about those racing car days was a summer Saturday night even before being old enough to know there was a racing stadium that was located not far from our home.

I was frightened to death of death because of it.

I was fast asleep. It was very dark and quiet in mmy dream world. The only light on in the house was usually one little night light that the folks kept on in the kitchen in case of anyone’s need to reach for the bathroom door knob.

The only lights outside were the dim yellows of streetlights placed few and far between; like Gene Kelly’s every so often Singing in the Rain spotlights. Back then there was no need for the ultra bright’s of the supposed criminal deterrents one may notice presently. Gone but not forgotten is the warm of yellow lighting.

I must have been five or six at the time but I can still hear what I didn’t really see at the time. When it began it woke mme up. When it continued I ducked under the covers for fear it would come into the house. It began with a loud boom that startled mme awake. Then another boom happened. By this time I was still groggy but wondered what I had just heard. It sounded like two cannon shots.

A dead uneasy silence followed for too long. I was lying down looking around the dark room but nothing was stirring. All of a sudden I heard what I know now as the creaking of a car door that didn’t work very well. The hinges must have been tangled or something. I heard the sound of metal scraping creaking metal.

I heard a woman scream one of those long curdling ones that make you wonder what she was looking at. A man’s voice followed; then another door opened and a different mans voice yelled at the first man. The woman screamed again and I heard bumps on what sounded like things being thrown on to a car.

The woman screamed something like don’t hit mmy man anymore, can’t you see he’s had enough? Then the woman screamed again and more bumps were heard. I guess it was a full fledged fist fight happening in the street and just outside the window right in front of our house.

The woman kept on screaming and the men kept fighting. The reason I suppose was an apparent accident between their two cars. By this time mmy folks had awaken and turned a small light on in the kitchen. The glow came into our room.

Then I saw one of them walk towards the front of the house while passing our bedroom door saying something that made mme think whoever it was, was pretty perturbed at being awoken.

The fighting was still going on including the screaming and yelling for someone to stop someone from hitting her man. I got under the covers and didn’t dare look out the window. MMy eyes were wide open at this point and hoping that whoever that man was hitting the other one would stop; or maybe both were flailing at each other at that point. I couldn’t tell. It just kept on continuing.

Within minutes I heard a siren stop in front of the house. There were more voices in the mix most of which I couldn’t distinguish what was being said. The woman had continued screaming at this point; but this time to I guess it was at the policemen. Their voices sounded reassuring to her as she calmed down.

I was glad of that. I heard another siren approach and then another and another.
A gaggle of human voices were discussing all manner of things unfamiliar at the time. I overheard a different sounding one coming from what I know to this day as a radio dispatchers voice escaping from an opened door of several police cars.

After what seemed like an eternity of discussions, I heard the sound of several tow trucks, towing lines whines. It wasn’t long before their engines roared away with the sound of a further and further distance. The dark became serene again.
Still under covers in the protection of the deep and dark quiet of the room, I heard the comforting voice of a mother’s love. Softly she whispered that if we were awake, not to worry, things were sorted out; everything’s OK; go back to sleep… and that I did.