The green and white leaves of Porcelain vine which grows up the corner of our house and then clings with tenacity to edge of the roof dance gently in the breeze as I lay on my bed on this warm summer afternoon, surveying my domain through the opened, screened window. The grape arbor which is immediately below my bedroom window is fully leafed out. The beetles have yet to turn the leaves into lacy greenery. If you look closely you can see small clusters of grapes, slowly growing among the heavily leafed vines.
This reminds me of childhood, 50 years ago. Hiding under the hedge that designated the property line between my parents and myself and our neighbors. The bushes were bridal wreath. The flowers looking like small versions of white daisies clustered together to form a small, white bouquet no more than an inch or so big, a bridal bouquet. The green leaves were small and delicate with scalloped edges. The branches although they looked like a gust of wind could blow them away grew in the most tangled and wonderful way, naturally forming archways between the full grown bushes. This is were I hid. Looking out across the lawn into my neighbors yard.
It was a wonderful place to hide. My neighbor's dog (whose name I can not remember) would come and hide with me. She had long silky fur and a loving nature. I remember her colors as being black, brown and white. We would lay there together like two conspirators watching the yard as it was transformed into a party.
When it was an especially important event my neighbors would borrow a canopy type of tent from the local funeral home and set it up in their back yard (the name of the funeral home would be facing our yard so no one could see it). This was the place where the elders of their family would sit to receive the younger family members. If it was some sort of birthday or an event in which gifts were given, then there would be a pile of luxuriously wrapped presents of all sizes and shapes waiting for the moment they were to be opened. Their patio, breezeway and kitchen would be filled to overflowing with the many dishes brought by various family members. My neighbors yard was magic.
It would always be loud and exuberant when the family members got together as there were many, many relatives, immediate and extended, his side being Italian and her side Polish. Laughter, jokes, much hugging and kissing, quite unlike my small and very quiet, undemonstrative family.
I would lay there amazed at the people and the emotions that rose up in the air from all the joy and love that these people felt for each other. It was palpable, real, honest and for the most part outside my understanding.
There was always the one uncle who knew where I was hiding. He was the one that was the favorite uncle. He spent a lot of time at the neighbors house not just because he lived alone but because they wanted him there. He would casually stroll over to my hiding spot and a paper plate full of food or a napkin with a treat on would appear in front of me. He never said anything and he always seem to catch me off guard because there it would be, wonderful, homemade Italian (or Polish) food waiting for me to eat it. He never failed me (or the dog).
Those were truly magical days. Feeling I could become invisible and just watch a world that I didn't quite understand but somehow in watching I felt very much a part of. They were good neighbors. Their children were older than I but they didn't fail to ask me to join them for dinner in the summer when the grill had swordfish on it and the smell was tantalizing. They seemed to understand I was alone. I had friends but I didn't have brothers or sisters and being able to sit at a table with a family of 6 was probably a good experience for me. Watching the banter of 3 sisters and a brother and the loving presence talkative parents was interesting, amusing and quite different from quiet dinners with just me and my parents.
Summer days like today bring back memories. Pleasant, a bit sad, but beautiful.
This reminds me of childhood, 50 years ago. Hiding under the hedge that designated the property line between my parents and myself and our neighbors. The bushes were bridal wreath. The flowers looking like small versions of white daisies clustered together to form a small, white bouquet no more than an inch or so big, a bridal bouquet. The green leaves were small and delicate with scalloped edges. The branches although they looked like a gust of wind could blow them away grew in the most tangled and wonderful way, naturally forming archways between the full grown bushes. This is were I hid. Looking out across the lawn into my neighbors yard.
It was a wonderful place to hide. My neighbor's dog (whose name I can not remember) would come and hide with me. She had long silky fur and a loving nature. I remember her colors as being black, brown and white. We would lay there together like two conspirators watching the yard as it was transformed into a party.
When it was an especially important event my neighbors would borrow a canopy type of tent from the local funeral home and set it up in their back yard (the name of the funeral home would be facing our yard so no one could see it). This was the place where the elders of their family would sit to receive the younger family members. If it was some sort of birthday or an event in which gifts were given, then there would be a pile of luxuriously wrapped presents of all sizes and shapes waiting for the moment they were to be opened. Their patio, breezeway and kitchen would be filled to overflowing with the many dishes brought by various family members. My neighbors yard was magic.
It would always be loud and exuberant when the family members got together as there were many, many relatives, immediate and extended, his side being Italian and her side Polish. Laughter, jokes, much hugging and kissing, quite unlike my small and very quiet, undemonstrative family.
I would lay there amazed at the people and the emotions that rose up in the air from all the joy and love that these people felt for each other. It was palpable, real, honest and for the most part outside my understanding.
There was always the one uncle who knew where I was hiding. He was the one that was the favorite uncle. He spent a lot of time at the neighbors house not just because he lived alone but because they wanted him there. He would casually stroll over to my hiding spot and a paper plate full of food or a napkin with a treat on would appear in front of me. He never said anything and he always seem to catch me off guard because there it would be, wonderful, homemade Italian (or Polish) food waiting for me to eat it. He never failed me (or the dog).
Those were truly magical days. Feeling I could become invisible and just watch a world that I didn't quite understand but somehow in watching I felt very much a part of. They were good neighbors. Their children were older than I but they didn't fail to ask me to join them for dinner in the summer when the grill had swordfish on it and the smell was tantalizing. They seemed to understand I was alone. I had friends but I didn't have brothers or sisters and being able to sit at a table with a family of 6 was probably a good experience for me. Watching the banter of 3 sisters and a brother and the loving presence talkative parents was interesting, amusing and quite different from quiet dinners with just me and my parents.
Summer days like today bring back memories. Pleasant, a bit sad, but beautiful.
