On South Stevens Street, on any given weekend back in the mid 70's to early 80's this is what the neighborhood "looked" like:
On the corner of 13th and Stevens lived yours truly, my sister (5 years older than me) and my big brother E, 2 years older than me. Directly to the west was the Obenland stead (I remember Theresa, Michelle, Robin, Erin, & Michael **thanks Theresa**), west of them the McCrackens (Bob and a couple of brothers), west of them - the Larue's (Brad, Jimbo, Jackie, Ron and... and... oh man, the hockey ref Larue...). Then there was a house that people move in and out of the house a few times in my 14 years in my house... and just west of that house was the Roberts (Keith, aka, Keither, Janie, Doug and Neil). Across the street from the Roberts home was Mrs. Sweeney's house - grandmother to THE Julia Sweeney of SNL fame and "Pat". East of Mrs. Sweeneys abode was the Boyles (Brendan and Kathleen), east of them - the Olneys (Pat, Cathy, Chris and ??), east of them a house we never ever ever EVER saw anyone go into, or out of, east of them and across the street from us and the Obenlands - was the Gigler house (David, Jimmy, Danny, Ron and Roger Jr.), next to them - the Hendersons whose kids were gone and in college one day to have grandsons visit, but not before we couldn't be bothered with them. Then there was Dick and Cindy - who never had kids, and divorced as the neighborhood was "breaking up" and people began moving. Just east of Dick and Cindy was the Snyders - probably our families closest family friends in the latter years. Trina, Jimmy and Ronnie. I need to mention the Pierones' to the north of us (Dino and brothers) and then the Swigards (Sherry and Brett).
Across the street from the Snyders, Pierones and our house was Cliff Park. "The Volcano" park. Many baseball games were played there, primo sledding hills, the tree swing that us little kids had to wait our turn for, kick the can, capture the flag, climbing around the "volcano" on the outside instead of just climbing the stairs to the top.
This was my childhood. These people. This street. My mom smoking cigarettes and socializing with Roger senior (she doesn't smoke anymore), adult steak dinners and lots of laughter and talk about crap I didn't give a crap about over at the Snyders, walks around Cliff Park with Sally Pieorne picking up garbage (that woman cared about her neighborhood) and chit chatting with me all the way around that block. She found a way to make us snot nosed little kids think that walking around the park with her, picking up garbage was a treat, was fun. And it was. Not just in retrospect. It was then too. She always had on her perfectly red lipstick, hair was perfectly coiffed, sometimes in a scarf and she always had fun florally, print shirts. And she would ask me a question and she'd nod and "uhm hmmm" all the way around the block as I talked... and talked.
Oh my goodness... and then there was Dawnita. Dawnita lived with her parents until the day she died (at least I think I heard this) but she scared us kids. She was always barking at us to move to the other side of the street, or pick things up. She was no Sally Pierone.
I don't really think a whole lot about my childhood, but when I do, it's the "events" amongst the kids in the neighborhood that I remember more than those of my family... we were your typical dysfunctional family and truth be told, it wasn't always the happiest place on earth. But no place is always UP all of the time.
I got a text this past Saturday while at an end of the school year party - at 2:54pm telling me that David Gigler, one of my sisters oldest friends and our old neighbor, had suffered a heart attack and died that morning at 11 a.m. He was 47. It's in the paper, in the news and likely all over the Facebook.
It's leading me down a path that I don't like to talk a whole lot about and usually just stay away from because I didn't love my youth. Sure I have good memories, but mostly I remember a lot of "turbulence"... all around.
I have a few of my own memories of David. David was the youngest of 5 boys. He had blonde hair and blue eyes - brilliant blue eyes and was a little thicker than the next brother I knew semi well, Jimmy. I can't remember how these "events" ever came to pass - likely me having nothing to do and bouncing a ball around outside... but David would ask if I wanted him to do my hair, or make up. I was LIKE 9 or 10 at the time and it was so much fun. We'd go to his house, up to the bathroom at the top of the stairs and he'd put my hair in rollers, put eyeshadow and beautiful lashes on me. I don't ever remember my moms reaction to the glamourous "me" that David constructed, but I remember feeling very important. Lucky to be the girl in the neighborhood that got to be made to look like a star for the day.
I never thought anything of it - just that he was an artist.
The last time I saw David in person was roughly 8 years ago out at Charlie's. He was the same David, living life to it's fullest and enjoying those he loved to be around and who so loved to be around him. He was my sisters closest friend. He was loved by so many.
His death is affecting me differently than it is those that were always close to him or at least stayed in contact with him, be it through life lines or theater life. I'm sad to see a part of the "good" that lived on Stevens Street pass. He was some of my happy memories, albeit few, I remember them just the same. And with fondness. He laughed and chatted at me as he created... I can hear that laugh now. I've longed to let go of the childhood that I so didn't "love" for so long, but with Davids unexpected death, I find myself yearning for those days back. So I could see more of the good, open my eyes, feel less pain and laugh. Just laugh. Like David did.
*DENNIS!!! The Larue I couldn't remember.
**I think in my earlier "version" of this - I remembered Cindy, as in Lapke (but where did she live?) and Cathy - I think she was an Olney. This trip down memory lane is probably good to get synapses popping!**
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