Back to where I started

"Four-Seventy-Three Pine Court, Lake Bluff, Illinois" is the first address I remember being taught to memorize. I don't know exactly when we moved there, but I'm pretty sure my Dad had the house built, since I recall lots of other houses being built during that time. It had to be around 1959, for that is the year my brother was born, and that was our address (I was born in Hartford, CT. in 1957).

That is where my life's memories started. My Mom yelling at my older brothers as I lay in my crib, the two of them arguing whose turn it was to change my diaper. A baby came home. Kittens being born in the closet by the front door. A massive ice storm that caused our power to go out for days. Dad dug a hole along the front walk, filling it with manure over which to grow his prized roses (this little boy was fascinated by poop projects). His smoker he built from terracotta pipe. The garden along the back line where he grew 10' sunflowers (more poop). A tree-house built in the corner of the backyard. The stick of a weeping willow tree we bought at Roger's Nursery (planted in poop) that grew next to our sandbox (where the cats would poop). It still stands, massively shading everything along with all these other trees that have grown. It has been a half-century since we lived there.

Three riders uniformly dressed circling in front of 473 Pine Court probably will be a memory for at least on of the children who I suspect called an alarm in to the now-Dad of the house. As I approached on foot I was met by him, and children ranging from 4 to 9 years, and Mom. I introduced myself, explaining my history and intent. Mom graciously invited me in and the flood came over me. It was as I remembered, but smaller. I was allowed in the backyard, upstairs to my "nursery" and other bedrooms, downstairs, split-level...memories. It's funny how the small part of our lives seems so big in our consciousness- so much in such a short period of time.

Before leaving I posed with Charley, 4 years old, who is learning how to ride without training wheels. We stood together at the spot my ride started the day Dad took mine off. I was hurled down the driveway, so excited I forgot how to stop that first time. It has been a long road since, and hopefully as many miles before I forget to stop for the last time. God speed Charley; may your road be smooth and the wind following. Remember where you started.