I grew up with many friends that are African-American. Mom taught us to call them colored but they request we call them black. Truth be told I just called them my friends for that is what they were and still are. I learned a lot about people growing up in my neighborhood. It was my first experience of a culture other than mine even though I didn't know it at the time. I simply absorbed it into my way of life.
When we moved out to Sabine also known as Liberty City. The original name was Hog Eye. It was the first time we had land. I had eight acres to roam. Indoors I was like a caged animal. I longed for the freedom of the outdoors. The corral was our fort where my brother and I would play cowboys and indians or outlaws. There was one panel on the corral that wasn't completely fixed to the other. You could sit on it and bounce pretending you were riding a horse.
A horse. That brings me to another story. I loved horses when I was younger. That was until my parents purchase the Shetland pony from our neighbor across the street. We use to sit on top of that pony, her name was Penny while she stood in her shed. The boy who owned her, my brother, and myself all could sit on her at once and she didn't mind at all. Totally different story when she came to live with us. Apparently she is ok with sitting on her when she gets to do what she wants but riding was a totally different thing all together. She would buck and throw a fit. Taking her down in the pasture just to have her race back. She once bucked and took my brother under a bois d arc tree trying to scrap him off with the limbs. She was a smart cantankerous one there. I can tell you my desire to own a horse was rapidly changed. I now love them from a far. Oh, I have ridden them but I prefer those that do trail rides that actually don't mind a human rider. Those feisty ones I'll let other deal with thank you.
We moved out to Sabine during my 3rd grade summer and were unable to make friends until we went to school. That is where I met Chris Dorsey, who lived diagonally across the road from me. He liked to ride his bike down to the neighborhood store. I would see him pass during the summer but he never spoke to me. I remember longing to have friends and wishing he would stop and talk. The turd never did.
Chris became good friends with my brother and I. Actually I think of him more as a brother than a friend. I love him and his family very much. Chris taught me how to play basketball, run, and throw a ball. That first year when it snowed I got pelted not knowing how to make a snowball and throw. Let me tell you I learned quick. We also road our bikes all over the neighborhood. Our favorite thing to do was go riding after it rained. We would hit every mud puddle over and over until the puddle was dry or we were soaked.
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| Jason Snow, "Nothing like riding your bike through every mud puddle you could find.I lived for those days." |
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| February 2009 - Sonja Boyd, Me, Charles Boyd, Jason, Mom, Chris Dorsey |
Sonja and Charles lived down the road about 1/4 of a mile or so. Sonja and I played some mean basketball and softball together growing up. We had loads of fun. As we all grew older our lives went different directions and we lost touch. Unfortunately the above picture was taken at the funeral of Chris Dorsey's mother. God, she had the prettiest, sweetest smile. Such a tender heart. Thinking of her is like a warm hug around my heart. It is a shame we have to find each other at such and event however I know Mrs. Dorsey was smiling at all the laughter that occurred as a result. Our love for each other had not diminished over time and we still keep in touch. Well, Chris is not so good about it but his wonderful wife Dede is. She is a great match for him. I am sure she adequately keeps him on his toes as it should be.
Sweet Memories...love it...keep it going...
ReplyDeleteShanda