a city boy, no more

I grew up about 100 yards from Route 66. In Chicago, on the southwest side of the city, Ogden Avenue ran at an angle towards the Near North Side where it eventually petered out a few blocks west of Lake Michigan. Ogden Avenue was Route 66 and Route 34 within the city limits. Ogden Avenue formed the South boundary of our neighborhood. And Cermak Road formed the Northern one. Ogden and Cermak crossed each other about a block and a half east of us, right at Pulaski Road. Ogden, Cermak and Pulaski were 'BIG' streets, and the next street west of us, Keeler, was a 'busy' street, so we were not allowed to cross any of those streets. We were confined to this triangular sliver of territory where, because of all the kids that lived in our 'sliver', we had everything we needed to keep ourselves busy and entertained. There were open spaces and vacant lots and trees to climb and sheds to hide in to smoke cigarettes. We were happy. There was always someone to play with. If you wanted to find somebody to play with, you went from house to house, standing out in front and yelling for the kid to come out.

"Yo-o, bah bee!" and Bobby would come out. If he was home. But you figured he was because the windows were open. If the windows were closed - if the house was shut up - then you could pretty well bet that no one was home and you went to the next house. Eventually you got a group together and then there was the pow-wow to decide what you were going to do.

A favorite was 'bounce or fly', played in the street. Our street. Kedvale Avenue. That quiet little side street that didn't get much traffic. Bounce or fly was played with a bat and a softball (16 inch) and it involved hitting the ball in the air. If it was caught on the fly, it was an out. If it was caught on one bounce, it was half an out. You kept knocking the ball out there until you got three outs. To this day, I hit a ball high and straight. Because you HAD to hit it straight. The cars parked on either side of the street belonged to our parents and they didn't seem to like the notion of anyone bouncing a big, fat 16 inch softball of the top of their cars. Those were the days.

Over the years I have moved further and further from the City. Today I live more than 40 miles Southwest of the neighborhood I grew up in. I live in a 1970's subdivision just outside a small town, growing larger. Sometimes, I go back into the city, for one reason or another. And I am no longer comfortable there.

It seems like people on top of people, with no space, no privacy, no room to park your car or just stretch out. Out in the burbs, we got ELBOW ROOM. In the city, it seems so crowded, you can't even scratch without needing to make sure that what you're scratching belongs to you.

I guess I'm not a 'city boy' any longer. On the other hand, I can't be so far away that I lose my Cable TV, Broadband Internet Access, and access to a nearby liquor store. After all, I'm not a FARMER.