Neighborhood Stores and Watch out for that truck!

Our community was nice. It was a good time to be a kid. We had a lot of freedom to roam. We could go to Lillians store front on Macedonia. The little old lady with the meanest little dogs in town. The dogs were ugly too. I never understood how you could run a retail store, albeit a mom and pop version, with yappy ass little dogs greeting your customers. This was a quick stop store, the kind you found all over local neighborhoods in the past. There are still occassional storefronts found, just not as common. My best guess is that Lillian was 125 years old while she was running this operation. (My memory is cloudy I am sure, because I was so young) I can still see her in the recess of my mind scurrying out from behind the counter with her little minions yipping and yapping their not so freindly welcome to those brave enough to visit. It must have been tough on the old bird to maintain this place on her own. She didn't like kids very much, although after my sister put dads truck in gear and ran it up on the steps of her place, I can see why.

We had Gibsons Arena. A skating rink within walking distance from our home. I we were lucky we could stop by Garnets Drug store and pick up some penny candy. Like the little penny hotdog gum and the likes. Or a quick soda. Then off to Gibsons to make a day of it. Who hasn't visualized the " Old Skaters at the Rink" and thought, I could be a proffessional skater? Right, me either. I really think that even then I thought the old people skating were social rejects looking for a piece of their youth drooped away like the muscle tone in their bodies. At least they were happy, we just skated a good distance away so they wouldn't hit us if they died while we passed by. Oh the good old days. Gibson Arena and Garnets Drug Store or Lillians Market.

Lots to see and lots to remember. I still remember the man carrying Kammy up the driveway. Kammy looked scared and was crying. She had fallen off her bicycle and fell under the wheel of a moving dump truck. They were repairing the road along Macedonia. Pavement was removed and replaced with sand. The driver was in shock, he saw her fall down and he imagined the worst kind of horror. In his mind he was sure that he popped her head like a ripe tomato. Of course, anyone who knew or knows my sister would be sure that the tire would more likely burst than her head. But, no worries, she had turned her head and the tire on the truck ran over her arm. To a small boy, the tire tracks were cool the way they ran along her arm. Kinda like the most painful tatoo you could get. Kammy was rushed to the hospital with only a sprain. A lucky day to be sure. Scary then. But fodder for stories now. My sister was ran over by a dumptruck and didn't even break a bone. Not many folks could say that. She was tough.