I Remember You: When We Were Just Kids

by Irene Daniel

The other day I was sitting in my house chatting with some old friends, Pamela and Tommy Cathemer III. We all grew up together. My mother used to babysit them after school, so we're like family. And always will be.

As old friends often do, we got to reminiscing. I gazed out my living room window, past the fence to the sidewalk and across the paved street to the Sante Fe style home where my neighbors Duane and Vickie live. But it didn't used to be that way. Right outside my front door used to be nothing but funky ol' dirt.

We started talking about all the fun we had in that dirt, especially when all the kids in the neighborhood would and play there with us. Sometimes there would be a whole lot of us, sometimes less so, but fun was always had by all.

There were my two older brothers, Gilbert and David, and me; and of course Tommy and Pam and their two little brothers, Reed and Stewart, as well as their Aunt Olga. She was only a few years older than Tommy and one of my best friends. The Martinez family lived next door and usually Louie, Linda and their baby sister Francis would join in. The Jarequis still live across the street to the east, where Johnny, Frankie and Rickie grew up. Sometimes, the Harveys -- Pam, Eddie and David -- would be next door to the south, visiting their Grandaddy Gordon, the electrician. And then my BFF since 4th grade, Rhonda, would come over to play with me and join in our games. The more, the merrier.

We had a blast!! Being the oldest, Gilbert would organize games of freeze-tag, baseball and some other games that I think he just made up; using us as guinea pigs to test his theories of play. We ranged in age from preschool to high school and no one got left out. Even the littlest among us got their at-bat. We ran around and screamed and giggled and fell down, scraping body parts. Sometimes we'd fight and squabble, but mostly we laughed and got lots of exercise. We were buds!

Those memories are so vivid to me and it was heartwarming to know that Pam and Tommy remembered them too. We recalled that, as we were mucking around kicking up lots of desert dust, we could hear the clamour of pots and pans, and smell supper cooking in the various households. The scents seemed to blend together in a rich and appetizing aroma stew that hung in the air. And then my mother's comadres and compadres would call their brood in to come and eat as the sunlight slipped beneath the horizon. By then we were all covered with dust and maybe a little blood; just a bunch of dirty, sweaty, stinky kids.

Recounting our childhood glee we all agreed that, while progress and pavement are good things, we shared something special that is gone for good. Our shared gratitude of days gone by made us feel sorry for the today's kids, with their play-dates and helicopter parents. Our parents were glad to get us out of their hair for awhile. "Just try not to get run over," they would warn, since we were playing in the middle of an unpaved road. We kids were just as happy for the break from chores, homework, nagging and discipline. We just ran amok for an hour or two. It was the best! Those images remain one of the richest spots in my memory bank.

We talked some more, fast-forwarding to what was once the future, but now is past. We are all in our 50s now and can still appreciate bright futures, even though we all bear many scars of life's battles. Yet, for each of those 1960s households, the future would bring great loss and the torment of unspeakable grief. Some of our playmates live now only in our memories; ghosts of our collective childhood. We all lost someone.

The first to go was Louie Martinez. He never made it out of high school because he died in a horrible car accident. I will never forget how the whole town mourned his passing. The shock of seeing big and strong football players, Louie's teammates and friends, sobbing uncontrollably left and indelible impression on the 13 year old me.

The Jarequis lost Johnny -- their oldest, bravest and funniest. My brother Gilbert died of cancer in 1988. The Cathemers took the biggest hit of all our families. Reed, the sweetest one of all of us Reedy was, died of an accidental gun-shot wound at the age of 14. And my beloved friend, Olga Marie, died in the spring of 1990. I miss them all. A lot.

Yet, as I lament these passings, I rejoice in the appreciation of my memories of the laughing, screaming, giggling, bloody and dirty kids that we once were.

I look out my window and there they all are again -- happy, silly children at play.

I remember you. I will always remember you.

                                                                        Copyright 2015,  Irene Daniel, All Rights Reserved.