Edgewood, 1973

We had made our way down busy Palm Avenue towards the crosswalk. after zigzagging the usual route from busy Bandini Avenue to Tower Road to Rosewood Place. Bret was our wild-man companion - a fifth-grader with a take-no-prisoners approach to life. The local crosswalk, that most mundane of enterprises was soon to become the scene of spontaneous absurdist theater when suddenly out of nowhere came the random yelp:Hey...Hey...What do you want with us lady? - What do I want with you? said the most predictably normal gray-haired woman by whose ever so brief guidance we measured our daily jaunt to school. Yeah - where are you taking us? - There's only one way kid - It's this way... - You're not really a crossing guard are you? came the cheeky interrogative. The slightly bemused, limping, beleaguered  woman was dwarfed by her bright yellow uniform as she held up her STOP sign - showing Brett. The other smaller kids walked by us single file in the middle of the road.  Brett was mock-incredulous. Hey I get it...Brett looked around. You may look like a nice old grandmother or something... But - my teacher told us, all is not what it seems. Appearances are deceiving. We need to test the waters. Don't just dive into the pool. She told us that - didn't she guys? Didn't she?  Now he was sounding mock-serious- almost scary. Jon said: Are you talking about Mrs. Nagatuck?  Of course, of course I'm talking about her - my favorite social studies teacher...See Jon heard her say it...And Nick heard her. I have witnesses...Geez you people! A trio of smaller children rushed by us in the middle of the street. You have to trust someone don't you - sonny boy? Look at my uniform here. Have you ever seen anyone dressed this way who wasn't a crossing guard?  Brett was suddenly acting confused and agitated... Well I don't know...You look like someone's granny - maybe ...  But you could be an ex-wrestler...A pawn broker...graverobber...I just don't know who I can trust anymore... I want to see a badge....I have rights you know...How do I know that you're not a child-robber? Thief! You're that kidnapper I saw on the news...C'mon guys, let's get outta here... The crossing guard scoffed. Really now.  I saw on the news there's a guy stealing kids and he's dressed like a nice old grandmother... Brett, crouching, arms extended, eyes-bugging out, had that panicked, sky-is-falling look that was almost convincing. He grabbed Jon and myself by the arm and escorted us to safety.  By that time we were on the sidewalk again - laughing hysterically...It was an age when our imaginations were haunted by urban legends and killers on the loose... Brett being Brett again the year before he moved away unexpected; he was out of control that year - irreverent towards anyone he encountered be they child or grown-up...We were reaching the part of our journey where we arrived at Edgewood once again - the weird street where strange things happened... Back when we were kids in 1973, we followed that same route to school everyday, across three busy intersections with crossing guards posted at only two of them, a long trek of 1.7 miles past rows of orange blossoms and rose petals, nothing like the legendary five miles uphill in the snow that old timers love to brag about. Aside from the sketchiness of Rosewood - the street where a local bully resided,  the only problematic stretch was Edgewood - the sleepy little connector block, lined with palm trees - between Brockton and Magnolia. Every house on this block was strange. The yellow house with the day-sleeper sign, the green house with the hedge that we used to hide behind. Then there was a girl who sat on the porch of the gray house quietly loitering while we walked by....She would stare daggers at us - mute, unmoved until Brett began his schoolmarm routine... Hello little girl... How are you today?Silence... What did you have for breakfast? Continued silence... Do you have any pets? How many sisters do you have? What is your favorite toothpaste? What's your favorite tv show? Do you watch cartoons? What color is my shirt Nothing again, nothing...And then the magic question... What's your teacher's name? And then out of nowhere the girl would come out with some mysteriously garbled yet emphatic answer... Missus Stock... ! she announced... Missus Stock? Brett said hoping to clarify... Missus Stark! Missus Stark? Did you just say - but by then it had changed to: Mrs. Spark! And finally Miss Spock...! Brett finally ended the conversation gingerly with: Okay little, girl, good, good, you did well today, we'll ask you some more questions tomorrow ...But once out of earshot everyone was suddenly wondering - what grade is she in - must be a pre-schooler. After that it was on to the yellow house where Brett would attempt to wake up the 'Day Sleeper" with his loud pleas... singing loudly in his best Italian opera voice. The house itself with the hedge was freaky...One time we walked by while the man pulled out of the driveway and ran into an empty tricycle...We had not made any kind of intervention - but we heard the loud crunch sound...and casually walked past as the man leaped from his car and began cursing loudly...We were not very mindful of grownups back then - of adults - aside from our parents - having lives of their own,  living their  solitary or problematic lives...What did they do all day behind those closed doors...It seemed like so many people were working the night shift because the cars were still in the drive way...Someone was home - mothers with young children, men sleeping in or perhaps not longer working...It was just  weird little block where the normal rules did not seem to apply.  One time there was a man mowing the lawn...He had a push-mower and was going over the same patch over and over... OMG, Brett said... Doug-H. rode up on his bike and circled around in front of the house and came over to us...Hey - guys - that guy - is - that guy is....He could barely get the words out...And someone said, "he was in Vietnam..." That guy is....that guy is... We were stunned really - overcome by a nervousness bordering on laughter, but more like fright...Look - that old woman's talking to him...He's gotta be wearing something... Nope - Naked, Doug said. A couple was suddenly arguing down the street ...We could hear them inside their own house...It's over said the woman...I'm done... To think back upon it - it must have been somewhat typical of stuff happening to people all over town all over the state in the year 1974 - couples breaking up, scarred vets returning home, people sleeping in after working a night shift, loud cars rumbling in drive-ways, little girls left sitting alone on porches while their parents worked and before their babysitters showed up. Brett took it all in - enshrined it for us in memory with his unmatched antics... This is a weird street, very weird street someone said...It must have been that same day when Brett got to the cafeteria and carefully shredded a dollar bill while he stood in line...When he handed it to the cafeteria lady, it turned to confetti. The creative genius in our midst continued to run circles around the grown-ups for another semester. I could never figure out his exact agenda - but it was so apropos of everything. By the following June, he came up to us sadly near the crosswalk, announcing that his parents had decided to move out of state - and like that, by the end of summer, he simply vanished from our lives forever.