It’s hard to picture the LA she grew up in. Bungalow apartments built around a courtyard with a big central lawn dotted with palm trees. She knew all of her immediate neighbors. The kids all congregated together at various yards and houses to play. It was a comforting existence.
She knew where her grandmother lived and she didn’t much care for kindergarten. She had a baby sister that took up most of her mother’s time, so she decided to walk. She knew how to cross a street, but it still scared her. Motor Avenue was a busy four lane thoroughfare.
Her Nana’s house stood on the top of a hill at one end. If you kept walking in the other direction, it would lead you onto an even busier street that was bustling with action. Further down you would come to the MGM lots where various family members had jobs in the business of movie making.
She had only one destination; The Big House. Everyone called it “The Big House” because it was the most prominent feature in the little town before it got gobbled up by progress and a building frenzy that led to all the courts being turned into four story concrete monstrosities.
She knew all the little businesses on the several blocks up the street. There was the little store run by a Jewish gentleman who would cut your meat to order. If she had a nickel she would have stopped in to buy a dill pickle out of the barrel. She loved to open the lid on the barrel just to smell the vinegar. It made her mouth water just to think about it.
She had already walked past the cyclone fences that separated the school yards from the traffic. There was a little community garden at one end where all the kids had planted seeds; radishes, beans, tomatoes, corn, and squash. The garden was flourishing in the LA sun. She waved to one of the teachers who was out watering.
She got to the scary corner where there was no signal, but only a stop sign on the feeder street. She knew she had to get across this intersection to get on the left side of the street. Further up the traffic got faster and heavier as the avenue accepted the flux of cars coming in from all directions.
She looked both ways at least a half a dozen times before she held her breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and stepped off the curb. Whew. She was fine. She made it. Only two more short blocks to go.
Her grandad’s paint store was coming up soon. She figured he probably wouldn’t be there – out on a job somewhere. “Kelley Moore” the sign said. She looked in briefly. She loved the smell of paint. Sometimes her grandad would let her help him putty up the holes before painting. She liked the smell of putty too, but mostly she liked spending time with her grandad.
One more small street to cross and she would be in front of the imposing concrete staircase that led to her Nana’s front door. She had been told this little street was named after her grandmother, “Irene.”
The concrete stairs were not made for her short pudgy legs. It was really tiring to climb them. She had to take a couple of rests before continuing on. She was getting hungry too. She hadn’t had lunch yet.
She sat there looking down at the traffic. It was hot and she had her legs spread to cool off. The wind was blowing up her skirt and it felt good to her. Then she realized that all the people in the passing cars could see her underpants. She closed her legs and continued on her climb.
She rang the doorbell. Nana answered the door with pursed lips. She was not expecting to see her favorite great grandchild. “Does your mother know you’re here?”
“Yes,” Kristie answered lying through her teeth.
“Well, I guess we better get you some lunch.” Nana went to the kitchen to prepare a four course meal for the little girl. She had pork chops, gravy, mashed potatoes, succotash, and a big piece of chocolate cake with a glass of milk. Regular milk, not that “skinned” milk her dad made her drink.
She heard her Nana go into the office and call her mom. “Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. I just fixed her some lunch.”
Later she got the lecture about how dangerous it was for a little girl to be out walking like that. There were crazy drivers, crazy traffic, and crazy men who could pick her up and take her someplace crazy.
Well, OK, she would never do that again, but she remembered the details of her first adventure, the fear, the walk, the stairs… and especially the lunch, for well over sixty years.
(First published 8/16/12)
