A narrow three story brick apartment building standing by itself. Trees arching over a bumpy concrete sidewalk. At four years old the first street I remember living on was in west Denver. Douglas Place? I had a tiny trike to ride on the sidewalk. It was mostly cold and I wore a big snow suit coat when we were outside walking. I remember a big street about half a block to the south – probably W Colfax. We lived there for short period on the upstairs level. Shared a bathroom with two other apartments on the same floor.

The second street I remember was the street that went by the end of our barracks on Lowry AFB in Denver. That was where the trucks came by selling vegetables and ice. I was five. The kids in our neighborhood used to chase the ice truck and hope for a piece to hold and lick and chew on during the hot summer days before air conditioning. We lived on the second story and you could see the hospital where my Dad worked across another street to the north.

There was an MP guard shack at the gate a few buildings to the west of our barracks and the hospital. That was where we went to get on a bus and go to kindergarten. They had a coal burning stove in the shack and on really cold days it was a place to get warm. I still have periodic dreams where I am pulled closer and closer to that stove and can’t keep my hands from reaching out and being burned on the red hot metal.

Then my Dad got new orders and we moved to Mesa, AZ. He was stationed at Williams AFB. We lived on the side of a small dirt street which dead-ended at an irrigation ditch. Alfalfa fields lined the other, south side of the ditch. Some play friends lived a few houses to the north on the opposite side of the street where there was a large palm tree with lots of dead palm fronds infected with large nests of wasps. Fun to throw rocks at when you are six. Not fun when you get bit by a wasp.

When we finally got base housing we were in a small home along with many others stretched alongside the street. When you went out the front door and turned left, the neighbors a few houses down from us had a TV. Round screen with a funny pattern on it. It was only on for a couple of hours each day. We could stand outside and look thru the screen door at the TV when there was something on it. I learned to ride a bike on that street.

Arizona was really hot. All we had for cooling was a swamp cooler in one of the windows. I had two smaller brothers – the third wouldn’t arrive for a few years. The two brothers ended up getting heat-related health problems and we ended up getting moved back to Colorado. We lived in Englewood on three different streets: Acoma, Pearl and Pennsylvania in that order. The first two were in rentals. The latter was where my parents bought their first home.

It was on a block that had all new homes. There was a K-3 elementary school across the street with an older home and barn with really big (Oak?) trees just to the south of it. All the families on our side of the street would play in the front yards, ride our bikes up and down the street and periodically get into the biggest water fights I’ve ever experienced. The school yard was used many times for impromptu baseball games. Much fun.

Today that elementary school is gone, replaced for awhile with a city center for adults. My Mom volunteered there for many years. We had planted a small Blue Spruce in front of our house when we moved in. I could easily jump over it without touching. When my Mom moved out over 50 years later, that Spruce was so big it hid the front of the house. I lived on that street until I graduated from high school and left for college.

There are many other streets, boulevards, highways and more that have crossed paths with me over the years: Broadway, Champs de Elysee, Canal Street, Highway 66, Pacific Coast Highway, Ocean Drive… All created memories. But, none of them had the same feeling of neighborhood families living and growing together, experiencing all the youthful memories that color one’s understanding of self.