I've decided to resurrect this blog with an introduction to the street where I used to live and where my good friend
currently does. Today, I wandered down and snapped a few pictures of the place to give you an idea of Cobra's humble beginnings.
Our family moved to Phoenix and stayed with Mom's mom (who lived around the corner from where Gentleburrito and Barbara the Astonishing now reside) for the summer and a little into the school year (eighth grade for me). Dad had retired from the Air Force, so we were newly arrived from Loring, Maine. (Where we had moved to in the dead of winter, naturally). (I haven't blogged in a while, but promise to get the parentheticals under control.)
Lauren was in college and Buddy was on his mission, so we were Mom, Dad, Partick and your Cobra. Still, that was a pretty big invasion as far as Grandma was concerned and fairly tight conditions in her little house. So at some point (if anybody who knows cares to fill in the gaps, please feel free) we took up residence in the beautiful Knight Apartments, pictured below:
Isn't it something? The only significant change is the color of the place, which used to be more like its neighbor:
You know, eighth grade was a pretty good year for me. For the first time, I made a good impression academically--finishing assignments and whatnot. Not that this was a conscious decision, an effort to recreate myself or anything. Just that I was doing it and making an impression of being smart rather than not and coming off as...I don't know. Baffling, maybe.
I liked my classmates and had a group of three friends. One was called Dancing Bear by our homeroom teacher Mr. Law. He was a big old guy with graying red hair, famous for once throwing a student out of the classroom and onto the sidewalk outside, desk and all. No idea why she was Dancing Bear--she was scrawny and blond and certainly the most worldly of the four of us (she seemed to have the best handle on Billy Squire lyrics, for example). I get the feeling there had been other Dancing Bears in the past for Mr. Law and she somehow lucked into the title for 19__. I don't remember the second friend's name. I do remember her nickname, once given by a smart alec from a lower grade who somehow made it stick (that's also how I became "Fuzz," this being the era I looked like Albert Brooks and all), but it's unkind so I'll refer to her here as TB. The third was from a Vietnamese family and named Thuy. I don't remember a nickname for her, but her grandmother wrote her name as "Tee," which makes a lot more sense phonetically.
Anyway, since I was happy Knight Apartments seemed a fine place to live. But upon revisiting them I do understand why Mom couldn't wait to get the hell out. Here's the entrance:
In fairness to my childhood memories, the pool used to have water in it. Also, there were a couple of big olive trees in the yard. I remember climbing one of them once and getting black marks on my clothes from the squashed fruit. Which also stained the sidewalks. Maybe I'm not so surprised the olive trees are gone.
One of these is the front door, number 16 maybe?
I remember little walled in porches, but who knows. Here's the back. Partick and I shared a room that faced this parking area from which emanated the sounds of amorous cats.
Finally, here's a view from across the street; significant because our science teacher lived there:
We thought he was the very most awesome thing going because he was young, looked like Magnum, PI, and called the girls "Princess." After we moved away, I heard rumors that TB had taken to spending lots of time at his house and that his marriage broke up. No idea if the two are related, or even true for that matter.
And thus ends this trip down memory lane.