The Mayfair Station

Against all odds, I was a relatively well-behaved kid.  I had a pretty good conscience.  Peer pressure only occasionally corrupted me; for the most part I was comfortable making my own decisions.  Sometimes, though, certain activities tantalized me.  And sometimes it felt good to be bad. In 1995, a kid new to the neighborhood (or at least new to me) began making the rounds on my block.  I think he lived north of Foster.  And for the life of me I cannot recall his name.  For this story’s sake I’ll refer to this kid as David.  David began coming around during the weird transitional period between Daniel’s departure and my family’s move.  This period was fraught with loneliness and uncertainty; some of the other kids in the neighborhood moved away, and others just didn’t come out as much.  After all, we were now young teenagers; in some cases we were seduced by vanity, other times we were just too cool to hang out on the block doing the things we previously did.  As for me, I was maturing

Growing up, I wasn't the only one of my friends who didn't receive an allowance.  In fact, very few of us did.  To me, the idea came from movies or television but we were not those kinds of people.  To just be handed money from my parents for doing nothing was not even a concept I could wrap my head around. So in order to buy all of the required necessities such as pudding pies, root beer, and firecrackers I needed, I had to work.  I shamelessly put myself out there for pocket change, or, sometimes more.  I enjoyed brainstorming ideas and creating marketing strategies.  And at the end of the day, seeing my spoils spread out across the carpeted floor of my living room, it felt great to know that I knew how to get money however way I was able. Maybe the earliest venture I ever undertook was one that involved selling painted rocks door to door.  That's right - rocks, the kinds one might find along the perimeter of an above-ground pool or maybe along the perimeter of a house. 

 On the next block over lived Eli and her family.  Eli was a little younger than I, with long, straight, dark hair and glasses. She was somewhat of a tomboy and she could hang with the boys and deal with our stupidity. She had one older sister and one older brother, who were friends with my older sister.   We and Eli got along really well - for the most part.  Sometimes "hood drama" flared up and we'd pop off at each other.  It was never really serious, just some pre-teens flexing over disagreements or misunderstandings.  When Eli had beef with you, you were going to hear it loud and clear, sometimes right in your face.  She was always going to have the last word.  Clockwise from upper left: Katie, Eli, me, Jerermy, Lisa's sister (can't remember her name), and my sister Cheryl During one of our periods of conflict, I and a few friends saw Eli in the alley we shared.  She was accompanied by some visiting cousins. Some words were exchanged, during which I singled ou