The empty lot and beyond…
There was one empty lot on our street. The last time I looked, it was still empty. As young children we didn’t pay any attention to it. We were told to not play there and this is a mystery that will never be solved; we were, after turning six years old, allowed to play in the street, but not in the empty lot? I still don’t get it.
Upon reaching the age of 11, we were taller, stronger and also more adventurous. Our curiosity overwhelmed us; what was behind the empty lot? As little children we probably thought like Shel Silverstein and his “Where The Sidewalk Ends.” Did Pittsburgh end there? Could you fall off the world there?
So in the summer of 1961 we escaped from our mothers’ watchful eyes and squeezed through an opening in the fence. Hedges, grown tall, had been planted there so between the fence and these hedges we ended up with a lot of scratches and scrapes. It was worth it, though, when we finally made it through the gap.
The land sloped almost straight down to a house on Beechwood Blvd., below. We could tell that it was Beechwood Blvd. because: 1) there were a lot of cars speeding along; 2) we used our heads and figured it out. Down that terrifying slope a few weedy patches grew. There were also, however, huge, HUGE boulders that leaned against each other. “Just like when dinosaurs were here,” we told each other.
The three of us sat down at the top of the slope. It should be added here that we were not particularly obedient children so we asked each other: Could we dare each other to slide down the hill to where the “dinosaur rocks” were sitting? It’s funny but I can still see this so clearly. In the end we did take the plunge and really did it. But it was so dangerous! I still can’t believe it. We used to start fires and I don’t know for sure which horrible thing was the worst. Probably the fires we started were the worst thing because other people and their homes could be hurt and damaged and killed. If the dinosaur rocks moved out of their places and the three of us bounced down to Beechwood Blvd., well, we would probably die but nobody and nothing else would be damaged or dead.
The three of us, now in our sixties, agree that forcing our way through the fence and perilously sliding down the hill to the dinosaur rocks corresponded with our coming of age.
Two facts emerge. One, the three of us talked about
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