When I was four years old my parents rented a house in Cedar Vale in that southwestern corner of town where the crazy angle of all the streets in the downtown area suddenly straighten out and we are with the rest of the world. North is really north and west is really west—amazing. We called the house ‘The Custer House’ because we rented it from its owner, Frank Custer. Just next door was my very best friend, Donna Burch who was one year older than me. Donna was a beauty with her blond curls and winning smile and I was totally enamored. She called me her “little fat cutey” which I loved. We were inseparable playmates in those early years.
Across from our houses was the only concrete sidewalk in the neighborhood, except, of course, the short sidewalks leading up to each house’s front door. This broad expanse of smooth sidewalk led from nowhere to nowhere. It started at the corner of a street and left off mysteriously well before the end of the block. It ran in front of an empty lot, so no one used the sidewalk for any adult purpose. It was perfect for Donna and me and we took ownership by calling it our Good Sidewalk. We could ride our tricycles up and down this freeway or give each other rides in our wagons. We pushed our toy cars along there and drew elaborate hopscotch diagrams in colored chalk. The Good Sidewalk was a perfect surface for our chalk artwork and it was usually decorated from one end to the other with a colorful array of the best of our drawings. If our parents wanted to know how we were or wanted to call us to dinner they could depend on finding us on the Good Sidewalk.
When I was five years old Donna started to first grade and I had the Good Sidewalk to myself during the day. I would play there and wait for Donna to come home from school so the real fun could begin. Donna carefully taught me everything she had learned at school during the day, using the Good Sidewalk as her chalkboard. I soaked up the numbers, spelling, and reading and was well ahead of my classmates the next year when I started to school.
It was during this year that Donna was given a pair of skates, which allowed her to go at tremendous speeds up and down the Good Sidewalk. I asked for skates for my birthday primarily so Donna wouldn’t get too far ahead of me. Donna promised to teach me to skate. My father acquiesced to skates, which he thought was a bit much for a five-year-old, but he put his foot down at Donna teaching me to skate. No mere girl was going to teach his son to skate.
So on my birthday it was just me alone on the Good Sidewalk with my brand new skates. I strapped them on my feet and tightened the clips at the toe to hold them firmly on my shoes. I managed to get the skates under me and stood up to begin skating. Boom! I came down hard on my behind with a teeth-rattling shock that left me hurting from head to butt and wondering what had happened to me. When I was finished crying about that I tried again, but over compensated and fell headlong forward, scraping both knees and the palms of my hands. Suddenly the Good Sidewalk was an enemy that was inflicting great bodily harm. I tried again several times and each time a new scrape appeared on my body. Elbows, knees, hands, and even my chin came in for abuse.
I loosened the straps and took the skates off, replacing them in their box. Limping home, I told my mother that I didn’t want skates after all—they were just too dangerous. That was the end of roller-skating for me until my teen years, when the Baptist Youth Fellowship went to Arkansas City to the roller rink. There I got my sea legs under me and was able to stay upright most of the time. I could do it, but I never enjoyed skating as much as my classmates seemed to.
On my recent trip to Cedar Vale I looked around and actually found the Good Sidewalk. Like all of us kids, the Good Sidewalk isn’t as beautiful and smooth as it was 67 years ago, but it’s there and it still leads to nowhere. I wonder if any of the local kids have found it and play there. I didn’t see any chalk drawings on the sidewalk and there may not be any kids left in the neighborhood anyway.
19 comments:
Gary, a wonderful "slice of life" experience. I often consider writing about something that had similar importance to me, but then think to myself, "no one else would be interested in that". After reading your thoughts about sidewalks, fascinating as they are, I think that perhaps I will again burden the CVmemories with meaningless items from my past.
Meaning is in the eye of the beholder. Most of us are interested in the minor trivia of our growing up in CV, so burden us with your memories!
It occurred to me that perhaps it would have been much better if your dad had allowed Donna to teach you to skate?????????
Without doubt!
Excellent and interesting account of the "sidewalk to nowhere", Gary. Hope you follow, Wayne ... as these pieces of CV memorabilia help make our yesterdays (somewhat) live again.
I learned to skate in Wichita, probably about age 6. We had sidewalks everywhere and I loved skating. When we moved in with Grandpa and Grandma (Anna and Albert)in Cedar Vale, I found good places to skate. They lived between two hills (maybe they are slopes) on Hwy 166. I would labor up the hill in the direction of the high school and then skate down just past their house. Or, I could go in the direction of the "old" grade school and then skate down that hill to their house. Another place I loved to skate was a hill that starts across the highway from the front of the old high school and goes all the way down past the side of property where my Aunt Cora Mattocks lived. (the house the Oltjen's built is on this street.) I could coast past the side of Aunt Cora's house, cross the street and down to the end of that block. It wasn't much fun going back up that hill. I always stopped for a visit with Aunt Cora and she would have lemonaide for me. She was such fun to visit with. I continued to skate in college and even learned to couples skate. When my children were growing up I skated with them. Thanks for the memory, Gary. Another past time for me was playing jacks. That was probably too sissy a game for boys !
What am I doing wrong? I did not do Annon !
Sissy, but we used to "shoot marbles". Does that count??
Yep, that counts. I never did shoot marbles !!
...it seems today that too many kids shoot people instead of marbles.
Great story, Gary! Got me to wondering if anybody remembers the boxing classes conducted by Dana McGill?
P.S. I lasted one round!
Hey Don, please tell me about Dana McGill and boxing lessons. I've been wanting to do a short bit on Dana and I'm having trouble getting material. Maybe you could email it to me--unless you would like to do the bit on him.
I believe Dana was Jay Mills' uncle,
I believe Dana was Jay Mills' uncle, Nellie's brother. Have you picked Jay's brain about him, Don?
Yes, I've been in touch with both Jay D. and Carl, his nephews.
Gary, do you remember skating at the pavillion in Hewins Park, or at the rink above the old Adams Mercantile?? Cedar Vale was a booming place then. Does anyone know how many students are in this senior class??
Wayne, I never did either. I never owned a pair of skates and only skated with rented skates at the roller rink.
Wayne - The CVHS book published in 1996 lists 36 members of the Class of 1955, beginning with Tom Appleby and ending with Wayne Woodruff.
Pat, sorry I did not make myself clear. I wanted to know how many are in the 2009 class. But anyway, thanks for trying. At our age, that is about all we can do.
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