Kes: Fading Symbol Of A Bygone Time

I stared at the empty lot with abject disbelief. Confusion reigned. I had stopped the car in the middle of Stonewall Street and stumbled out to get a better look. I must be at the wrong place! I hadn’t been back in years. And things change.

But legends, hallmarks, beacons, institutions do not!

A quick glance to my right showed the Williams’ house exactly where it was supposed to be. A frantic look in the other direction revealed Mr. Paul Pinson’s house standing, like always, on the corner of Stonewall and Jordan Ave.

Horror of all horrors. I was at the right place!

And, to add insult to injury, the weeds indicated the house had not been here for a while. And maybe that one part was understandable. No one in this town who really knew me, wanted to be the bearer of that kind of news.

Paul David Campbell’s house was gone! That won’t mean a thing to you. Your world hasn’t stopped. Your mind is not trying to come to reason with the unreasonable. Life, for you, is still right side up. Your heart is not shattered into a thousand tiny pieces and laying at your feet….

The stately, three story, white wood framed house has (I won’t admit had) been a bellwether, a monument to all things good my entire life. Listen, they had a real basketball goal in the driveway. A baseball field in the backyard. And a wide, sweeping porch along the south side so we could talk life on rainy days.

Of course, it wasn’t just Paul David’s house. His entire family lived there. His oldest brother, Sammy, gave me the only whipping I received in my 12 years of formal schooling in McKenzie. Coach Campbell was our seventh grade PE teacher, and he didn’t cut me one bit of slack. It was like he didn’t even acknowledge the days and weeks and months I spent in their yard.

Or, it might have been the reason he got so mad. I would not dance with my chosen partner at PE. It was not the girl at fault in any way here. And I meant her no disrespect. I would not have danced in public at that tender stage of life with Sandra Dee, Annette Funicello, and Hayley Mills all rolled into one.

But I digress….

Leon and Paul David were in the same class and best friends. About every time Leon started down the street to Paul David’s house, Mom convinced him to take me along. It was there I made my first basket using a real goal; Leon lifted me up on his shoulders, and it still took several tries.

It was a little hard to figure exactly where the goal set with the house missing.

The baseball games were epic. The backyard was a mite small. But so were we. And we had special ground rules to accommodate the limited space. If you hit a ball off the garage wall in leftfield, it was an automatic double. One on the roof was a triple, and if you could get it over the garage, it was a homerun.

First base was a bush. And if you overran third base just by a little bit, you would crash into the back of the house. We all learned early in our baseball careers to “cut the corner” rounding a base...because of that wonderful building.

The grand old house had a TV set. I saw my first major league baseball game on it in 1956. It was a big box with a very small screen, black and white of course, and snowing like crazy in New York City in June. But I could make out Willie Mays when he came to bat. I have never been entertained any better on any device since that day!

The guys would hang out on the porch and talk about all sorts of things, Now, I’m five years younger than Leon, Paul David, Jackie, Bobby C., Jim, Nicky Joe, and the rest. I didn’t ever speak. But I learned about school, cars, girls, hopes, snipe hunting, dating, Levi jeans, peroxiding your hair, James Dean, marriage, penny loafers, dogs, aspirations, Lucky Strikes, moon hubcaps, money, pitfalls, Elvis, and everything else that was ever going to be important in life.

You think that house is not special to me!

But it was even more than that. It was a sentinel on a hill. Walking by it, either going or coming from town, I never failed to gaze over, reflecting on a game played, or a lesson learned. I’m telling you, it rang with knowledge, fun, laughter, truth, justice, and all that was good about growing up in that setting, that time, and that place.

The familiar scenes and heartfelt recollections of that home have unfolded in my deepest thoughts down through the ages. A million times. So, I am vividly aware the memories live on.

But oh, how much sweeter those memories taste when the symbol is still standing, silently still cheering you on….

Respectfully,
Kes
kesley45@aol.com