Hydrating Hydrants

As you know, I vacationed in Chicago a couple of weeks ago and it was hot, hot, hot.  I needed lots of water to keep myself hydrated.  I was just getting used to the Chicago water again, then had to come back to Maryland water.

When I was a kid, I remember visiting my cousins Jeff and Randy in Chicago and as usual, the summers were scorchingly hot.  I don't remember if it was the city or someone from the neighborhood who turned on the fire hydrants, but the whole neighborhood would be out there on the street, running through the refreshing cool hydrant water.  I think it was the city who did that because many times there was this thing that looked like a saw horse that clocked the end of the street so cars would slow down when they came through.  Some kids would be out there in their street clothes, some with bathing suits, even some of the younger ones in their underware.  Everyone was having fun, splashing around and directing the force of the water toward cars as they cruised by.  The car drivers didn't seem to mind.  For them it was a free car wash.

On one occasion, I remember all the kids out there playing and there was a local kid out there who had giant feet.  So help me they were giant feet.  In fact they were so huge, the kid didn't wear shoes.  He wore bandage cloths around his feet, they were so big.  I don't think they even make shoes the size of this kids feet.  He was an oddity.  His ears were big too, but the thing you'd notice the most was those enormous feet.  He had trouble walking and wouldn't run.  He just sort of shuffled where ever he was going; as if he had ski's on the end of each leg. I felt sorry for him.  Poor guy didn't have shoes.  But there he was with the rest of the neighborhood kids, playing in the water to cool off.  If there was a pool around those feet might have come in handy as flippers for swimming, but there weren't that many pools you could go to around there at that time.

My cousins lived around 27th and St. Louis Ave, in a three story apartment building with a huge yard on the side of the appartment.  There was an apple tree in the yard, that was right outside the window of Ina's apartment. Aunt Ina everybody called her.  She was fat, wore a mu-mu style dress, and had dark circles under her eyes.  She was a bit scarey looking and she told scarey stories too.  Like the story she told when she was a little girl and was sitting on the commode, a large sewer rat crawled through the sewer and came up through the commode while she was sitting on it.  She told of having to go to the hospital to get rabies shots, because the rat bit her on her behind.  She told us how scared she was every time she had to go to the bathroom after that.

The apple tree that was outside Ina's apartment was a favorite climbing tree. I used to climb it so I could show off to the neighborhood girls, Kathy and Susan Fabor, Maureen, and Judy Staggs (my cousin who lived in the same building as Jeff and Randy).  When I was playing outside, I spent a lot of time in that tree, proving my manhood by climbing as high as I could, and showing off to the girls.  In fact I was in that tree when one of the most unjust things happened to me one summer.

At the back of the yard and apartment building were these sheds/garages that must have been put there for kid-dom's amusement.  We kids thought so anyway.  They helped enclose the yard in to separate it from the alley.  In case you don't know, the alley is where us city folk put our garbage cans and other trash to get rid of our garbage.  On the appointed day the garbage truck came through and emptied all the 55 gallon steel drums of their garbage.  The alley is also used as a drive way for cars to get their vehicles into their garages.   The alley is also a place where us creative kids scavenge for raw materials to make something to play with.

On one occasion, I was playing outside with my cousins and climbing on the apple tree, when I noticed a slight commotion near the back of the yard.  My cousin Randy had drug a cardboard box from the alley into the yard and the kids were crawling through it having fun.  I don't know what possessed him to do it, but Randy got a hold of some matches or a lighter or something and started the cardboard box on fire.  I came down out of the tree and headed toward the fire just in time for Randy to let go of the front box flaps and my brother, Tim, came flying out of there.  I had perfect timing because about that time my uncle J.C. was bent over the second floor outdoor stairway yelling to get the fire out and for us boys to get upstairs.  We went upstairs alright - to our death.  Well, not really death, but to a fervent butt whooping, as we called it..  Uncle J.C. tore Jeff, Randy, and me up for trying to burn my brother Tim alive in the box.  I pleaded my innocents to no avail.  I was whipped (whooped) right along with the guilty.

I heard someone say recently, that when you are punished for something you did not do, it hurts double.  I think that might be true, because to this day, family members think I was involved in trying to burn my brother up in a box, when I just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time (which I have managed to accomplish a couple times in my life).  I'm not claiming I have never done anything deserving of a whooping, but on this occasion, I was innocent.  Yes, it's true I have done things I was never caught at, so I was probably due a whooping, but not for setting fire to my brother.  It is also true that I was involved in other assasination attempts on my brother; like the time I tried to hang him, or the time I hit him in the head with a shoe that busted his head open and blood filled Randy's cupped hands.  I have done things.  But I DID NOT DO THIS THING!   I should mention that my brother did not sustain any burns from the ordeal, but he could have been burned alive had Randy held him in there.

I'm thirsty now and am going for a drink of water.  I'll have an extra glass for you.

~Michael