Today my wife Evelyn and I dropped the little ones of at my brother's so that they can play with their cousins. After visiting for a bit, and saying goodbye to the kids, She and I drove to one of our favorite playgrounds. It was an opportunity for us to go and visit that place where we shared our first kiss. We arrived at our destination and looked at each other with gleaming eyes and a grin that only best friends can interpret.
(snickering)"Would you just look at this place; it's disgusting. How long do we have to be here Marlon?",My wife said.
I replied, "Hahaha, Oh, just for a minute Evelyn. Can you believe this is where met; at the junkyard?"
Harry's Junkyard is a dump. It has a look to make the projects seem like Disneyland. The smell is just awful here, like the inside of a doghouse, the bathroom after Uncle Ivan walked out of it, and it has that old tool box scent. There will be no postcards of Waterbury, CT. with a picture of this place on it.
Looking around at Harry's Junkyard, it's hard to imagine this was the safest place in the 80's that a kid growing up on Laurel St. could go. No crackhouses there, Nobody getting shot or hustled. There was just lot's of junk; rusty nails,rat bones, old car parts, and soggy furniture. This was a true bio-hazard but the perfect playground for a kid. Just like an episode from "Fat Albert", all of us neighborhood kids would come to this place, this stage and act out every cartoon and movie that was popular at the time. We built transformers from old carriages and bike parts. My cousin Sidney, who is a carpenter now, learned his trade here by building buggies from discarded wood and big wheel pieces. Those buggies had collard green cans for head lights. When I looked to the left and the right I could see some of the same heaps of trash that was there when we were little. My mom's old broom handle is still propped up inside of that Chevy Nova car frame. Evelyn, my wife, was the prettiest girl in school back then. She still is foxy but everyone remembers her as that tomboy, who would snatch her dad's tools and bring them to the junkyard. One tool would always end up getting left there and she would beat up the person that forgot to give it back.
Oh yes, Harry's Junkyard was the only amusement park that we could afford to visit. I would pass this place everyday for fifteen years; on my way to middle school, high school and on my way to work. It really is an eyesore on the route but I have thought often about coming back and just looking...just looking around. I have children of my own and I would never let them play anywhere close to this place. As much as everyone avoids Harry's Junkyard now, it was easy to convince Evelyn to come where with me and reminisce. I did think that showing up here was going to be a mistake, because I didn't want the smell to get on my clothes or in my car. I figured I was having a mid life crisis moment and that the whole idea was just silly. All of that changed as Evelyn and I stood together holding hands and laughing our heads off because of the memories of this old theater, playground, disgusting old junkyard.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Nice for its seemingly effortless ability to glide through long stretches of time so gracefully. For its seemingly effortlessly ability to incorporate two lives into the setting. For its seemingly effortless ability to have the junkyard reflect the larger setting. For its paradoxical but completely satisfying ending. And, of course, for its fine straightforward descriptive passages.
Post a Comment