The Town Green

 

It doesn’t matter where you grew up. It could have been the plains of Kansas, or the dusty fields of Texas, or the corner of New England I come from. For the rest of your life, no matter where you go, that place is still home.  Even if you haven’t lived there in many years, a song, a taste or a passing thought can bring you right back there in an instant.

For me, the memory came back recently as I drove passed a town green. If the place you grew up had one, you know what I mean.  That two block parcel of grass and trees crisscrossed by concrete walkways was literally the center of town. Every year the old growth maples and oaks signaled spring’s arrival, first with small, tentative buds, then tender bright green leaves. Finally, all the glory of summer days flourished in the deepest shades of green and shadow.

Of course, fall was a spectacle. The cooling air and shortening days gave the Green a stunning bonnet.  The colors deepened and faded, and finally the leaves fell. And there were amazing piles of leaves! You could get lost in them. Until you were eight or nine, they were taller than you were.

Every winter, as soon as it was cold enough, the Parks Department would build two-foot high berms of sand around each section of grass. The Fire Department drove two blocks from the main station with a pumper truck to fill the basins with water. Most years it took at least over night for each level to freeze, and there was no skating until three levels had frozen. Sometimes the wait seemed like forever.

On Saturday mornings we ran out right after breakfast and we were skating by 9:00. At lunchtime we hurried home, ate and ran back to skate until the sun started to set.  I can remember walking home after a day of skating on the Green feeling as tired as I’ve ever felt in my life. It was wonderful. Some days we hurried home after school, changed and grabbed our skates.  That only gave us an hour or so to skate before dinner, but it was worth it.

On my first weekend home from college, there was a rally on the green before a football game at the high school. I remember standing in the noise and activity and being glad to be there. The energy of the gathering, the smell of earth and fallen leaves, and the crisp fall night was an intoxicating mix. I knew this was something I would want to store away for future reference. I told myself to remember it. How amazing is it that I did?

What do you remember most about your hometown? It’s always good to visit, even if it’s an armchair trip.