Bull Rushing My Childhood

When I was a young girl, my parents built their first (and only) home in a freshly developed  neighborhood with freshly developed people.

Everything was buttoned-up, shiny, and happyhappyhappy. 

Most of the Moms stayed home (not mine) and the Dad’s went to work (not often enough). 

Sure, the streets were tar-n-chip, but the houses were new, with big yards and garages. Some families even had air-conditioning, a few had above-ground pools, and we had a asphalt driveway…. Ooooooh. 

Our streets were filled with young children on speedy new bikes, our dogs running wild,  and the occasional cross dresser.

Yes. You read that right. 

It was like Ozzie & Harriet in our neck-o-the-woods (except Ozzie liked silk stockings and Harriet’s high hells… and Harriet was sleeping with the neighbor, and the milk man, and the postman). 

But that’s not all Boys and Girls! 

We had an odd bachelor ‘brother-pair’ that delivered fresh eggs and offered rides in their truck in exchange for rolling eggs between your legs (I found this out the hard way), a cross-dressing stern spinster named Miss Guest (you bet she was) who wore the most spectacular men’s suits I have ever seen in my whole damn life and could play a mean game of poker (or was it poke her?), one young neighbor boy dying of leukemia (his parents just said he was constantly suffering from mumps- like for eight years), a husband who hung himself off his basement pipes, Saturday night ‘Key’ parties, one girl that was being sexually abused by her polio-stricken father, two young lesbian friends and a slew of gay boys (which always made the game of ‘Bull Rush‘ a do-over ’cause ‘you guys aren’t playing right ya big fat babies! Really! The bushes- again!’) 

Oh the 60’s. 

What a time of discovery. [sigh]

So it was with nostalgic delight, that just yesterday, I happened upon a Man/Girl at my local grocer’s, perusing the fresh fruit with such abandon that I had to pause:

“That fruit does smell wonderful”, said I, head gently nodding and eyes mist-filled.

“It does. I just have to have some. But I only brought my bicycle, and look at all I’ve got in my buggy, will you? I’m just mad for the produce this time of year.”

“Do you have a basket on your bike?”

“Why no I don’t. I’ll just have to hang on to it.”

“How close do you live?”

“Oh, about as close to the edge as I can get.” teheeee

“No. Really.”

“Just a few blocks over.”

“Would you like a lift? You can leave your bike for now.”

“Would you? Oh, I don’t want to bother you.”

“Okay, but don’t you think your skirt might get caught in the spokes?”

“One can only hope.”


I’m twelve again-
Bull Rush.
I didn’t want to ask to photograph him
(too disrespectful)
but I did get his bike!

  • Natalie DeYoung - I want that bike. Now I’m inspired… πŸ˜‰ReplyCancel

    • A Pleasant House - There are so many inspirational bikes around here. I should just go around and photograph them. Now- you’ve inspired me! Thanks Nat!ReplyCancel

  • bethteliho - Aw, great post, great story, and freakin’ AWESOME SHAZAAM BIKE!!! I bet *she* was very grateful for the ride home. That was so sweet of you. πŸ™‚ReplyCancel

  • bethteliho - Great post, great story, AND AWESOME SHAZAAM BIKE! I bet *she* was so grateful to have a ride home. That was so sweet of you. πŸ™‚ReplyCancel

  • Sue - Spectacular bike! So glad you took a photo. He/she definitely needs a basket.ReplyCancel

  • Linda Roy - “…freshly developed neighborhood with freshly developed houses…” I love that. “And they’re all made out of ticky tacky…” πŸ˜‰ But then, there are so many good lines in this Cheryl. Love!ReplyCancel

  • Kate @ Another Clean Slate - Be safe! I am always nervous about anyone I don’t know. But you are so good to offer a ride to a stranger. And a story from it!ReplyCancel

    • A Pleasant House - I offered, but I didn’t say he took it, now did I? Anyways, I travel with a loaded gun right on the seat. (only kidding)ReplyCancel

  • musingsonmotherhoodmidlife - Wow. You are so sweet to have helped “her”. And she was very trusting to just go off with you. Did your newfound nostalgic friendship end there? Curious minds want to know:)

  • William Kendall - That’s anything but Ozzie and Harriet!ReplyCancel

  • Angel The Alien - I think a lot of neighborhoods are like that… the more perfect they are, the more secrets hiding behind those curtains! Glad you were a kind neighbor and offered a ride to the bike rider who loves fruit!ReplyCancel

  • bookworm - Wow, that is so not where I grew up (the Bronx). Of course, we had our own set of strangeness and cultural conflict. Still waiting for your memoir.ReplyCancel

    • A Pleasant House - I’m to young to start a memoir (hahahaaa) I think I’ll wait another 56 years. I’ll be 60 by then.ReplyCancel

Your email is never published or shared. Required fields are marked *



CommentLuv badge

B l o g s   I   L o v e