mhauck (03/15/83)
Home As I talked with friends this day, I thought of home. Not where I live now, where I grew up. I remember the bridge to get to Arlands, It dripped water, even in the heat of summer. We'd climb the hill on the other side, to avoid traffic. I'd ride my bike down the side of the hill. The railroad tracks as a short cut to Jackson Park. Until someone got their legs cut off. No more tracks. I used to go to the field behind the train yard. Monarch butterflies abounded there, and peace. The water was clear and bamboo type sticks were everywhere A place for the young to grow up free. A bridge soon went over the railway tracks In winter we would sled down the hill I remember when a water main burst And we made a bob sled track, carring the water in buckets. It was fun in winter, the hill seemed huge, no more does it. That was so long ago, and yet I remember well The dump, which I know by no other name. My brother dug forts in the ground, we play with the neighborhood. Freder Malt would fill the air with the smell of popcorn. We'd play hide and seek in the pipe yard, going under the fence. Getting lost in a childs world of play, mother aways worried Throwing rocks at the water towers, listening to the echos. This is the home that holds a piece of my heart. I learned rough lessons there, I grew up fast. At times I hated that neighborhood, others I would love it. Early morning walks, in the peace of the morning. Late night walks in the warmth of summer, were life to me. I remember these times and smile a sad type of smile. 3/14/83 M.J.Hauck