Submitted July 26, 2008 by Peter J Roy
It was 1979 in the Coastal Town of Biddeford Maine. Most in our neighborhood belonged to St. Andre's Parish, which included a Sunday appearance at church. Following the sermon, we would congregate downstairs and have coffee and donuts. Later in the afternoon there was always a dinner prepared by our mothers. Back then all neighbors were familiar with others. This pretty much ensured, that for the most part, you behaved while playing with friends in the neighborhood.
There were no worries amongst us kids while running through yards after supper. Crime to us did not exist. Our only worries were that of bigfoot and the cops, in which there was a definite respect.
We often played tin can alley. The game was passed on from other generations. A tin can was set up in the middle of the street where traffic was at a minimum. One child was selected to hunt for the others, while the goal of the game was to free those caught by kicking the tin can.
The summer nights always seemed warm while peepers could be heard in concert in the nearby woods. Bug zappers would awe us at they would glow a magical purple, while sparking off a never-ending series of white flashes from the bugs being zapped.
The price of candy at the local store was inexpensive, some items of treasure included the thick glass bottles of Pepsi, RCA and Coke, slush puppies and fun dip. Bottle collecting was a routine hobby that would allow us the little bit of pocket money that we had.
Our age of innocence was larger than life. Today the neighborhood has changed. Generations have passed and new ones have flourished. The land and buildings seemed to have outgrow the very grounds we dreamed and played on.
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