Member-only story
Memoir
Life was Perfect on our Private Lane Before Dad Left
Music became the ‘friend’ I could always count on
When I was about a year old, my parents packed up the car and moved from a crappy neighborhood to a duplex on a private, dead-end road. This is where my earliest memories formed and where my love of music began. For the next four years, life was perfect. This snapshot of time was like a series of Norman Rockwell paintings.
At the end of our road, the Smiths had a farm with horses. They also had two boys named Dave and Stan, who were my pals. Summers were great on the private lane. We spent a lot of time outdoors, exploring and playing. We rode on the farm tractor and the ponies. We explored the woods behind my house and played in the hay piles in the barn.
Walking through the grass barefoot was a delight until I got stung by a bee near the swing set. When we got too hot, we’d retreat to their air-conditioned house. Mrs. Smith gave us homemade Kool-aid Popsicles, while we watched Star Trek in the basement.
On the lazy summer afternoons, my dad spent time working on his car in the driveway, while my dog Bandit and I roamed around the yard. My mom spent time inside, doing housewife things, like cleaning and cooking. One of the sharpest memories I have is of the…
