The Neighborhood

On our side of the street, there were two houses: ours, corner of Vienna and Peoples, and the Russells, corner of Vienna and Baccich.  I remember going behind our garage and staring into their yard.  Mr. Russell installed fences, I think, and the back yard behind his garage was full of sand and fencing and construction-type stuff.  All kinds of neat things to look at.  What I was really hoping for was a glimpse of Karen Russell.  Her brother Cecil pulled the wings off of dragonflies and ate them raw, and her sister Barbara was not attractive at the time.  About the only thing that Buddy, Pat, Tommy and I could agree on was that Karen was worth looking at.  It is all gone now, of course; Katrina took care of that.  Our house is empty, boarded up, but the Russells is occupied.  When I arrive in June, I intend to take a live look.  In the meantime, I’ll have to make do with these screen shots from Google Earth:

On the other side of the street were four houses.  Starting at the corner of Vienna and Baccich, the houses belonged to the Heines, Pepitones, Massas, and Bracamontes.  I have no idea if I am spelling their names correctly.  The Heines, Massas, and Bracamontes are clearly empty.  It is hard to tell about the Pepitones.

We were definitely friends with George and Steve Heine.  I considered Pat Pepitone to be my best friend, until Charlie Tobelman came along.  Pat’s brother, Tommy, went into the Navy.  Buddy and I were on again, off again friends.  He was definitely a bully.  Mostly, I remember that he swam in Lake Pontchartrain during hurricanes, sold bibles for a time after leaving high school, and ended up as a tugboat captain on the river.  The most vivid memories I have of the Bracamontes are of Little Mother running back and forth screaming like a banshee, and Warren grabbing his butt and running inside after I shot him in the rear with my BB gun.  He thought Buddy did it, and I never said otherwise.  Here is what their houses look like now:

On Peoples Ave., next door to the Bracamontes house, was the empty lot where we played football or baseball.  The canal was across Peoples Ave., and I recall the trains passing by regularly.  That sound was one of the things that put me to sleep, along with crickets, frogs, and the ceiling fan.  When Mom finally had had enough of the heat and humidity, and had A/C installed, the sounds were gone, and I had trouble sleeping.

Comments

[Aunt Anna]

Yep, quite some memories. Buddy's grandmother was something else. Remember the time Buddy turned the hose on her in the front yard? And the time we came home from school to find Buddy's house on fire. I didn't say anything when I noticed the smoke because I was always taught to mind my own business. As a kid I found it hard to use judgement with all the rules. I saw them as black or white and could not find a middle ground. So therefore I was very literal about such things.

Warren had that funny thumb. His sister, Charmaine, was not hard to look at, but she was kind of small compared to you, Charlie.

Yes, Karen was the looker. Barbara was fat and unattractive. Cecil was a nut case.

Then there was Joseph down the street. He knocked me off my bike once and Dad chased him around the block several times till his mother opened the gate so he could run into his yard. No love lost between Dad and most of the neighbors. Joseph was an even bigger bully than Buddy.

Teddy was my bud. I liked him a lot and we hung out together.

I remember Friday night's shooting baskets in their driveway. And summer days playing touch football in the street barefoot. That lasted till I was 11 at which point Mom pulled me out of the street and taught me how to sew. Took me another couple of years to figure out why I was not supposed to play with the boys any more. What an upset.

When I was little I'd stand at the end of Peoples Ave and look straight ahead to Elysian Fields, way past Franklin Ave. Now I can't focus to the end of the cul de sac!

And what about the ship's bell. That was our signal to come home. No matter where you were, when that bell rang is was home bound. Every kid in the neighborhood knew that. They would all tell use to go home as soon as the bell started: 'Your Mom is calling you. You gotta go."

Charlie and I would sit on the front lawn and count the number of cars as the train rolled by. Then there was always the conductor in the caboose and he would return waves to us. That was so cool!

And hobos would jump the trains and come into the neighborhood. How many times did one of them knock on our door and ask for something to eat. Mom would always fix them a sandwich and drink. Sometimes she could have them cut the grass for a couple of dollars. She was such a caring soul ;-D I can remember sitting on the steps talking to them while they ate. It was different back then.

After one of the hurricanes, when the streets were flooded, Warren was sitting on his top step and casting his fishing pole into the flood waters. Well, at least he was saving himself from being bored to tears with no electricity and nothing to do but wait till the flood waters went down.

Once hurricane we walked from our house to Aunt Ruth's house. Hers was on high ground. Aunt Al and Uncle Joe also went to Aunt Ruth's with Mike, the collie. Mike had to take a leak in the peak of the hurricane. Uncle Joe had a very limited vocabulary when he was angry! And Aunt Ruth's garage flew over her house and landed in the front lawn. The winds were the worst I can remember. I was sitting on her front porch watching cars blowing down Chef Mentur sideways until someone grabbed me by the scruff and dragged me inside. Another reason for Uncle Joe to use his limited vocabulary!

More later. Hey, Chris, let's hear some stories from you, babe!

[Charlie]

I have a memory like a steel sieve, all right. Hobos? I remember shooting BBs at the train, though, and arrows. Now, in June, I'm going to ride a train to NO. With luck, I won't have to dodge arrows and BBs!