The Street I Grew Up On
The street I grew up on was an eclectic group of individuals. I spent a good portion of my childhood moving around southern California, but settled, for what I consider the most important years of it, in the Murrieta/Temecula area. Then, a small duel-city area of less than 100,000 people, it was there that I started to form some of my most important friendships.
Our house was directly in the center of a street that dissected a circular tract of houses known as St. Tropez. Directly accross the street from us was Lars—one of three mailmen that lived on our street. According to us kids, Lars was significant for two reasons; he let us hold onto the back of his car while on our Rollerblades to get maximum speed, and his garage was full of Playboys. We used to play ball in the street and “accidently” lose it in his (always) open garage from time to time. It never ended up in the box of Playboys, but we always checked.
Next to Lars was the house of my two best friends—step brothers Luke and T.K. The were the reason for a lot of both my maturity and immaturity that lasts even to today. T.K., a tall, Italian kid was a knack for getting in trouble, and Luke, a smart, pudgy kid with a bit of a feminine side, helped me form memories that include basketball, street hockey, underage drinking, mountain biking, Rollerblading, comic books, and the occasional cigarette (for Luke). I’m still in contact with both of them thanks to Facebook, although I haven’t seen either in nearly 15 years.
The Kents were the closest thing I had to enemies. The entire family was both snobby and white trash. All three kids disliked me and I didn’t feel much better about them. A young couple moved into the house next to them after the husband that lived there before beat his wife and kids and was arrested. I had a big crush on one of the daughters, but they were hardly ever around and for good reason.
The corner houses consisted of very contrasting people. On one side was an older man with orange trees in his front yard. He was, for all intents and purposes, crazy. From time to time he’d have hippy-looking teenagers living with him and he was known for answering the door with a shotgun in hand. I think he was a bit paranoid and our ding-dong-ditching him probably didn’t help. Across from him was a nice, younger man who owned a Jolly Jump company. Jolly Jumps were those bouncy houses that kids today still play in. Occasionally he would set one up in his front yard for cleaning and allow us kids to play in it beforehand. Our next door neighbors were, how shall I say…the Flanders. You know, from The Simpsons. A very religious and nice family, they were a bit on the obnoxious side, but always there for you when you needed a cup of sugar. The father had a mustache and the wife was always quoting the Bible. I went to a Bible Study for a while with the kids, but they were a bit too strange for me.
Down the other end of the street was a girl named Danielle and her mother (Danielle was hot, but even as a 13-year-old you could tell she was going to be a slut) and across from her was a girl named Stephanie and her mom. Ah, Stephanie. I had the biggest crush on her. Unfortunately for me, she always had a thing for T.K. Most of the rest of the street I didn’t know very well. Around the circle there was quite a few more kids our age and we did hang out with them from time to time, but it was mainly me, Luke, T.K., Danielle, Stephanie, and Melissa and Mandy.
Oh! Melissa and Mandy! A year or two after we moved in, a family moved in down toward the end of the street. They had two young daughters about our age and they are both still good friends of mine. Mandy comes to Vegas often with her fiance and we occasionally catch dinner while they are in town. Melissa lives in San Diego with her husband and daughter and I go to see the two of them when I can.
I feel very privileged to have grown up on a street that contained a lot of kids my age. It helped me to become more of the social person I am today. Up until high school I was home schooled, so being able to spend time with those kids before going to a public school helped me a lot. Neighborhoods these days don’t seem to be as friendly. We used to have block parties where all the families would get together and have a BBQ outside. Kids would always be at our house swimming, sometimes when I wasn’t even there. We knew everybody and trusted everybody. Since moving from that street I have NEVER met a neighbor. Not anywhere I have lived. Sure, I’ve seen them in passing, but have never taken the time to stop and have a conversation with them. I want my kids to grow up the way I did—with good friends close by.
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