My Youth

550 Words2 Pages

My father having recently passed away, I was feeling nostalgic and found myself back in Livingston, haunting some of the old places of my youth: Becker's Farm; the National Little League baseball fields (we called it the sandpit); Northland Pool, and the adjacent water basin with the big painted rock titling rakishly at the far end of the field. The basin is now a soccer field, where I saw several coaches running young girls through various kicking drills. Some of the balls bounced into the concrete culvert which cuts through the center of the field and connects with a smallish drainage pipe—that pipe running under Bryant Drive and into a brook that flows past my boyhood home on McClellan Avenue. The pipe where I stood and watched the girls practice was the big pipe, the tunnel, the entrance to the cave where after forty years I could still stand straight, the sluggish stream of murky water flowing between my feet, and walk comfortably past its graffiti-covered walls rolling under the earth. Between kicks, the girls looked at me strangely, wondering no doubt why this middle-aged ma...

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