RUDIMENTS, pt. 303
Making Cars
I always tried to make good
stands, good points, so I'd not
be leaning on some negative
impression. It never worked
and often just ended up rendering
me useless - like the young boy
who tries too hard to please
everyone. That can wreck your
head. I'd get stuck in these
incredibly harsh situations.
One time, really early on, I
must have been 8 maybe. I had
a friend, for a short period of
time and then he moved away
or something, on Madison
Avenue. His name was Robert
Noone. Maybe there was,
again, no 'e'. I don't know. He'd
invited me to a birthday party
at his house, and the whole idea
freaked me out. I wasn't a social
type at all and really didn't know
the kids on that street very well.
He was a gentle, passive sort,
so I guess we got on OK, for
whatever grade and age it was.
Most of my friends were the
more rough and tumble type,
and that was the complete
opposite of him. Against my
better judgment, I went, not
knowing what to do, or how, or
what manner of socializing I'd
need to do. I was scared out of
my wits. But I went. All I can
remember is that it was in his
basement, lots of cupcakes and
balloons and soda, and there were
some games, like 'Pin the Tail On
the Donkey' - for the first time
in my life. Freaky; blindfold, etc.
I remember his basement had
support posts all around and I
pretty much clung right near to
one of those all afternoon, and
in fact used it to sometimes keep
out of sight lines with various
people. I forget who it was, but
I think her name was Georgette
Small - she was there and I
panicked. I'd always thought she
was wonderful; a bit older than
me, but I forget that too. Once I
realized she was there, I was
shot, done for, just wanted to
hide. But, it all went OK.
-
That 'Pin the Tail On the Donkey'
thing was an eye opener too - all
these kids already knew of it, and
to me it was brand new, something
I'd never heard of. So I immediately
surmised that there was an entire
other part of this world that I was
not familiar nor associated with.
These people knew things. Stuff
I'd never heard off - plus they
were easy and comfortable with
other people. That made me feel
really small (no pun, Georgette)
about myself - like 'how could I
have missed out on all this, and
how had they all learned these
things already?' All it did was
disconcert me more than I had
been before. There must be,
somewhere, reams of books
written on all these coming
of age subjects - an endless
puke of experiences - and most
anyone who's read anything has
come across them. They might
all be the same, or each might
be different - probably a mix
of the two, yet I here confess
that this one is mine and that's
the reason I write it. 'Write what
you know,' they say, as if that
isn't already obvious. The weird
thing about where I lived, and
about where Robert's house was
as well, was that we'd all arrived
together, almost at once. The same
immigrant boat, you could say -
to a new land, a new place, a new
situation, and one fraught with
every possibility in the world.
All at once, the houses were
completed and people began
swarming in. It appeared each
one had already been sold and
bargained for - mortgages and
money rates a'plenty, but everyone
was happy. For a few months
all you'd see were moving trucks,
coming in. New people, new
kids, new faces, pets, cars.
No one was really standoffish,
but everyone was a little bit
wary too. Blushing brides,
young mothers, different
looking guys - most of
them turned out to be mothers
and fathers of my friends, in
a month or two, after I began
connecting faces and homes
and kids. The family patterns
were interspersed with all
sorts of flavorings - stern,
happy, sad, morose, even
angry, though there wasn't
much of that. The kids were
all different - Sluggos and
(later) Barbies and storybook
characters too. Archie Comics
summed it up - as we grew.
The enforced socialization of
school kept us together as well;
each morning, like clockwork,
down each driveway would
slide two kids or more slurping
their away along the street to
school. At the end of the block
- what could be simpler than
that. Ours was a long, straight
street that ran out to the highway
at the trailer court top. Others
were a cul de sac and a long,
curving S-shaped block, and
Madison, a shorter straight line
(where Robert lived). Every
house was pretty much the
same, with some little variation.
Just outside of the periphery
of our streets there were a few
older homes, high and regal
by comparision, but they too
were eventually felled and the
lots re-built upon. Where there
had been one house, manor-sized,
there would be four. It was merely
'houses' everywhere. We knew
everybody, and we knew no
one. Kids running a kids' nation,
sometimes putting Lord Of the
Flies to shame.
-
That's how I first learned, too, of
families with history, and money,
and legacy. From the large, old homes
that were quickly dwindling as the
land around them was sold and
developers went to work. They'd
been around before us, and this
had been their private paradise - but
now it was being invaded by crazy
newcomers. Hordes of declasse
people from other places, the
broken-down and dwindling
decrepit old cities of New Jersey's
past : Newark, the Oranges,
Passaic, Irvington, Paterson.
Mere place names on a bad map.
God only knows what we must
have looked like to them. Invaders.
So dumb we necessitated new
schools! We became a tax-burden
to them, as well as a noise and new
neighbor burden. Negating all they
may have worked for or had before.
Country-quiet. A bit of solitude.
All that was over for them. We had
a brewery family, some guy who owned
a ski and pool shop, an industrialist,
out of Newark, business-people, and
real estate people too, who went
to New York City each day. I can't
say it was all our fault, for in my ways
WE were the culmination too of
their business dreams - land
development, new and additional
customers for their services, and all
the rest. Where they all went, I do
not know, but within ten or fifteen
years, for sure, those families
were all gone and their houses
removed. Maybe the pool-guy's
place still stands; not looking
like much.
-
What was the key to any of this? I never
knew. Standing fast, on those 'good
points' I mentioned? Steadfastness?
Earnestness? Any of those solid, old
words that now denote very little
actually. The old world is gone.
Here and there, if you're lucky enough
to flip something over, you may see
a remnant of it - here, there, there -
just quickly scurrying away.
But look fast.
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