I’d be lying if I said I had a rough childhood. Minus my parents’ painless divorce, (well, that’s unfair to say. Painless for ME, because I was too young to remember anything more than chopped up memories, like a drunken powerpoint presentation) I grew up with an idyllic family life in sheltered and safe Montana surburbia. I was equipped with everything a child could want to be happy: a basketball hoop, a trampoline, and a Nintendo 64. And yet, I spent most of my time out of the house at a nearby park where I could act out all my young fantasies.
I don’t really know why I first connected with Edgerton. It was old; I was young. It was BIG, with long sloping hills lines with trees that became toothpicks during autumn. I was decidedly small, even for my age, already cognizant that I would have to win fights with my mouth, not my muscle. Its playground equipment was aged, splintered and dying. I was the energetic epitome of youthful exuberance. The park somehow became my home-away-from-home for me. It became my castle, my helicopter, my Millenium Falcon, my HQ, my sanctuary, my bunker. I longed for any time I could sprint the 150 yards from my house to the adventure it promised; a place where I did all my best 9-year-old philosophizing. Propped on the rusting monkey bars, I contemplated life’s major issues: Why didn’t girls gross me out anymore? Why was long division so confusing? Could James Bond beat Han Solo? What if no guns were allowed, Han had Chewie, and Bond could use gadgets?
As the Brady Bunch sang, though, autumn turns to winter, and then winter turns to spring. Things changed. Life in my comfort zone held no immunity. The Edge always seemed to be the backdrop for the seminal moments in my ever-changing adolescence.
My first real I’m-Gonna-Marry-Her crush was Kortney Kemmis. She lived across the park from me, and I exercised every possible opportunity I had to see her. She had a smile you had to watch through tinted glass and a giggle that made my heart do the uneven bars. I remember doing push-ups in the park–by myself–hoping she would notice me. Inevitably though, I realized she just wasn’t into fitness-minded 6th graders, and I had to move on. It also probably didn’t help that I almost drowned at her birthday party. But that’s a story for another blog. The park, though, was there to soften the blow of rejection and remind me that I could survive without girls. It would just be a lot more boring.
Edgerton’s grass also softened the blows in Little Guy Football, a sport which (to me) roughly amounted to oversized Lineman like Blake Loran pounding the stuffing out of me daily, to the point that the “WALKS” on my jersey was reduced to “WA K”. Some particularly vicious teammates took my new last name as a request, and never missed an opportunity to make me taste the lush grass.
The park was home to not just my lows, by my highs as well. Under the amber glow of the park’s lone, flickering streetlight, I planted my first awkward warm kiss on a girl. Electrified by the perfection of the moment, I told her I loved her and ran home, my heart thumping in my ears. My wingman Andrew wasn’t two steps behind me. And on a balmy spring day, as the wind blew cold and the sun shone warm, I got the news that I was a big brother standing on the basketball court.
I’m leaving Edgerton behind, and I’m certainly going to miss it. After all, you can never cut something that big out of your life without leaing a hole to heal. I’ll miss the late-night-hide-and-seeks that inevitably ended with the cops being called on us. I’ll miss carving my name in the benches every summer with Ben, making sure we left as indelible an impact on the park as it left on us. I’ll miss counting down the seconds on my cell phone to 3:15 AM, that magical moment when the sprinklers click on. But most of all, I’ll miss just being a teenager. The carefree days of growing up are almost over, and the time to be a man is inexorably approaching. I know I’ll be ready, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be scared. At the very least, I’m equipped with the memories, experience, and understanding the park gave me. I know a little bit more about life thanks to those sturdy swings and football fields. But I guess I’ll never know the answer to the great Bond/Solo debate….
Cheers.
