Where can you find a race-track, a haunted house with ghosts,
a circus, flying carpets, a candy store and Queen’s throne all in one
place? To Grandmother’s house we go…
Race Car Drivers
My best memories are at your house in St. Paul on Nebraska
Ave. The two-story white house with
green shutters. The orange newspaper box
tucked up against the house behind the bush. The metal handrail ran up the
steps to the big front door with the curtains behind the window. The tall
chain-link fence that surrounded the back yard covered with the grape vines. The
grapes that were a waste to a little kid because they were sour but they were
for wine anyways. Tricky and poisonous like the apple in Snow White.
The house sat on a corner of Nebraska and Victoria, a very busy
street. There was a large oak tree in
the front yard. Your neighbor accused me
of picking the bark off it and said I was killing the tree. She lied.
I did not like her. She was crabby all the time.
The garage was detached and sat up against the busy street-
Victoria. You had a covered car stall
next to it with huge wooden fence like doors which closed with a long metal latching
arm on the inside. Sometimes Grandpa
would open it so we could ride our big wheels in a huge circle around the
entire yard and house.
We began at the front of the house by the front stoop. We
peddled as fast as our little stick legs could take us down the front walk,
then throw on the hand brake against the plastic wheel and skid sideways with a
few little hops while we made the sharp turn on the corner. We raced down the sidewalk that ran along the
busy street. This was the longest
straight stretch of good clean fast sidewalk so we had to take advantage and
gain momentum. Rags, the Schnauzer or
Riches, the Golden Retriever, were like race horses galloping down the inside
fence line to pace us waiting for us to reappear on the ‘other side’.
As we approached the open car-port, we slammed on the brakes
again and skidded into the car port cave and thru to the back sidewalk trying
not to tip over. The plastic black
wheels were worn and even had holes in them for so much speed. This lead us up the tunnel like sidewalk
alongside the grapevine covered fence to the back stoop. Rags or Riches would pick up with us and race us down the fence again until we hit the brakes again at the back
stoop. This was a tricky corner because
the large wooden barrel, which caught the water run-off was partially blocking
our path just off the porch. The
four-season porch created a few more sharp curves alongside the house, next to
the crabby ladies house. I did not like
her.
We whizzed along the windy narrow sidewalk back towards the
front. And Boom! - lap one done. We use to time ourselves to see how fast we
could go without tipping over. We wore
holes in those heavy-duty plastic wheels!
Little Squares of Joy
The caramel jar was one of my favorites. The glass jar next to Grandpa Ray’s big green
leather chair. Always filled with those
soft chewy squares of pure happiness.
Being from a family of nine did not permit many sweets to last long or
even be purchased at home. So the mile
walk to grandma’s house was worth it.
Even if you had to pass the scary Cujo dog and the crumbling white wall
to get there. I must have walked past
your house thousands of times during my youth. We passed it going to school on
the city bus, riding my bike to work at House of Wong, going to the DQ for Rags
or Riches’ birthday and a million other times.
It was at the slight bend in the road.
The Rugs
The thick red and gold striped wool rugs were like a sea of
magic carpets. They covered the entire
living room floor and flowed into the dining room along a path that allowed
small children from falling into the hot lava that lurked below. Stay on the rugs and stay safe - from Grandma and the lava.
The CHAIR
The wooden high chair. It was the throne of the
kingdom. The lava lurked below but Rags
or Riches was always there to catch your food before it got incinerated
below. Sometimes they just felt the need
to save me from the poisons trapped in spinach or beets so they sacrificed themselves
and took the bullet right from my hand. Man’s best friend.
The Swing and Trapeze
The circus lurked below the main stage. Tromping down the wooden steps to the
basement beheld to greatest secret ever.
Our very own mini-circus! We had our own real wooden swing hanging from
the ceiling but the trapeze was a thing of wonder and amazement. Coolest Grandparents ever to have real flying
trapeze which allowed me to fly threw the air like a true circus
performer. There was even a toilet and
shower right there out in the open to cool off after such a strenuous
performance. No walls, curtains or doors!
The Ghosts
Going upstairs was another adventure all together. The ceilings seemed to cave in on me as I
crawled further up towards the second floor. Grandpa’s room had a huge bed
(which we weren’t allowed to jump on) with four wooden posts that almost
touched the sky. The white bed -spread
was always neat and tidy but had those little tiny bumps all over it. My skin was all polka-dot like after taking ‘forced
naps’ on it. A form of torture. The
basement circus was so much better.
However, looming around the corner was the ‘other
bedroom’. This is where the ghosts
lived. It used to be my mom and aunt’s
room. I would lie in bed at night and
watch as the ghosts raced across the ceiling, some fast, some slow. The sounds of the busy street below as the
cars and buses hurried to their next destination. I only knew their headlights seeped thru the
blinds and flashed against the angled ceilings keeping me deep under my covers
hoping the monsters under the bed would get them before they got me unless of
course, the burning lava melted the monsters.
This was a scary room and I only had to sleep in it before our road
trips to Montana to see my cousins over the summer. It was well worth the one
night of sheer panic.
Grandma’s house was a playground like no other – An Imaginarium.
