Recollections 2: The Forbidden Alley

As a little girl, I grew up in a very old part of down, old and well-maintained.  There was lots of money in MapleRidge, and most of the kids in the neighborhood went to private school, myself included.  (In fact, I can count on one hand the kids who did not: Rachel, whose parents were divorced, the Whites, who were rumored to be abusive to their youngest daughter, and a few others, but they were blocks away and, thus, out of my tangible reality.

Those of us who lived on Norfolk, as it was, were friends by convenience.  Our dads worked while our moms stayed home and catered to us - making Kool-Aid and sandwiches, providing towels for the swimming pool, and readily available with sunscreen, bug spray, or even a popsicle.  We carpooled to school, each mom loading up her station wagon or Lincoln with well-groomed, uniformed kids, driving the 1.5 miles to school, and picking us up at the end of the day.  When school was out, though, is when the fun really started.  A block of like-minded peers, all within about 5 years of one another, provided endless entertainment.  During the long summer days, between sprinklers and dips in the pool, water balloon fights would materialize - boys against girls, youngest siblings against oldest siblings - laughter rang and tiny feet scampered.  Games would last forever, or until the youngest kid on the block (often me) got a balloon in the face, or scraped her knee, and went home crying.  Then the older kids would either continue playing up the street or reconvene for drinks and snacks at the nearest resident.

We had almost absolute freedom within the 2x1 block surrounding our home; we could run freely from yard to yard (well, almost freely as the occasional gate blocked some pathways), enter and exit homes and backyards at a whim, yell inside front doors and upstairs, and even play hockey in the street (as long as no cars were coming).  There was one area that was "off limits" to us all, though, and this is the area we relished most.  The area existed behind my own backyard, but could only be accessed through my next-door neighbor's yard, as my yard was barricaded on all sides by a red-brick wall.  Yes, the forbidden area was the alley that existed in the neglected space between my gate and our backyard neighbor's own fortress.  The only reason the alley existed is because each neighbor (years, decades ago) had erected a monument of privacy to assure safety within his walled property, but the 3-5 feet between each wall was soon forgotten and quickly fell into ruin, taken over, I could only imagine as a 6 year old who was prohibited permission to explore the area, by homeless men and prostitutes.

We didn't spend too much time in the alley; it was rather hard to escape the diligent attention of our doting mothers, but when we managed to escape to our private get-away, one by way, through the Trowler's tree house, what we discovered can only be described as ecstasy.  One of the earliest quests I can remember resulted in the acquisition of metal tubes of oil paint.  What was it doing in our alleyway?  Did a starving artist subsist somewhere nearby?  Were these grimy tubes somehow used to get high?  We eagerly rubbed the remaining paint on the cement cinder blocks, the back sides of our own walls, and, finally, to be rid of the evidence, on plants and trees before returning home.  Other ventures led to the discovery of broken bottles, articles of clothing, and garbage.  Who knows how dangerous the alley actually was (probably much more dangerous at night while we were all safely asleep in bed than in broad daylight when we dreamt ourselves to be invincible), but retreating to the alley, throughout my childhood, always made me feel mature and offered respite from the sometimes overstimulating world.