When I heard the screams and the thud, thud, thud, I wondered, what is happening to those poor little kids next door? I raced outside to see if someone needed help. When I peeked through the fence, and saw what was happening, all I could think of was, what is wrong with those horrible brats? It seems that my neighbor has given his kids a trampoline to play on, and the air was simply being filled with irritating screams of childhood exuberance. We'll see how much fun it is when the paramedics are carting one of them off after they do a back flip into the side of the shed.I grew up in a suburban subdivision that was crawling with kids, but here on our street children are a rarity. Our block is made up of mostly gay men, trailer park trash, and old farts, or in some cases all of the above. I happen to be the lucky guy that is sandwiched between the only two homes containing screaming, fighting, playing, children. I'm sure that when I was a kid we never caused any irritation to the adults. All our neighbors totally loved the family that had eleven children, the spawn of Al and Lila, living among them. Really, compared to their children, my brother and sisters, and I, were like angels. At least that's what I tell myself when I sit here listening to all the crap going on just over the fence, outside my office window. I suppose it could be worse. My real dread is for the future, when they all turn into teenagers. Hopefully by that time huge sub-woofers in the trunk of the car, and rap music will be passé.
1956 or so, On the far left is my sister Peggy, with me in front of her. Two over is my little sister Sue with the lovely fur trimmed coat.
