There are two statements that I can make and get an easy chuckle out of my two teenagers. The first is, “When I was a kid I lived on Goldilocks Lane…” and the second is, “When I worked at Gaylords…..” The latter was a department store that I believe is now defunct but my kids say it sounds like a gay motorcycle gang. Actually the Gaylords building where I worked is now the Student Center for the New Orleans Baptist Seminary.
I did live on Goldilocks Lane back in the 70’s. Located in Jacksonville, Florida on the west side of the city it was a middle class, blue-collar neighborhood. We lived at the top of the hill in the green and white house. The Rhudys, our best friends, lived in the house on our right and a rent house, with many occupants over the years, was on the left. Just a few doors down stood the Three Bears Nursery and Daycare.
I spent summers playing like I was John Wayne in Sands of Iwo Jima or an astronaut stranded on the Planet of the Apes. In the evenings my brothers, our friends and me would ride our bikes up and down the road. They were fast and had the infamous banana seats. Our bikes were decorated with an orange fluorescent flag waving above our heads and the sound of click, click, click echoing through the neighborhood from the baseball cards we had attached to the rims to make it sound like on engine.
We, the proud residents of Goldilocks lane, had our own little subculture. Or at least the kids did. There were the popular kids, the fat kids, the bullies and yes, even girls. But at that age we didn’t care much about the girls. I remember actually holding elections for Mayor of Goldilocks Lane. I lost the election because I could not swing my little brother’s vote in my direction. Probably gave him one too many wedgies!
We played a unique brand of football in those days – you know in time before moms and dads stopped letting kids be kids and actually have fun regardless of the physical threats of injury. Tag in the road and tackle in the grass but mostly tackle all over followed by an occasional “that’s gotta hurt.” Big John Rhudy was the one you wanted on your team. He was our version of Larry Czonka and could carry 4 kids on his back across the goal line. He looked a lot like Hoss from Gun Smoke. Johnny, not Big John but an older guy that lived across the street, taught us to play football and actually organized a game or two between Goldilocks Lane and the guys over on Miss Muffet Lane and Jack Horner Lane. Don’t remember much about the win-loss column but the games were full of action and mayhem. Our practices were made up of a little game Johnny called “smear the queer with the ball.” I can tell you it was not much fun being the ball carrier.
One year we had a bully on the block that would not let any of us ride our bikes to the 7-Eleven on Lanes Ave. He would make us stop and turn around and since he was older and could whip any of our butts individually, we obeyed. One day we came up with a simple plan to rid Goldilocks Lane of this resident evil and let freedom once again ring free….OK I am getting a little carried away. But our plan was simple and went like clock work . We had the youngest of our group stand in the front yard and challenge the Bully to a fight. The little one taunted him until the bully could take no more and proceeded into the yard to kick a little disrespectful tail. Then, like a scene straight out of Braveheart, the rest of us left our hiding places screaming and cursing and running directly at the bully. We hit him high. We hit him low. I grabbed onto a leg and didn’t let go (poetry not intended there). Once we had him under our control we beat the holy crap out of him. Our frustration level was high because of this boy-devil and our fury irrupted with every punch we threw. For most of that summer he had keep us from our beloved 7-Eleven and the awe inspiring Slurpees and the inevitable brain freezes they caused. Not anymore! At the end of the battle I had the biggest shiner and I wore it like a badge of honor. And the bully never bothered us again. We held our Slurpies high that day in celebration!
There will be more stories from the archives of Goldilocks Lane and yes my kids can still laugh at me when I bring them up. But at least I did not live two blocks over on the dreaded Tinker Bell Lane! We had our standards you know.
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