Posted by lex, on July 10, 2008
Teenage kids push away from Grand Theft Auto games and create a Wiffle ball diamond on what had been, well: Poison ivy.**
After three weeks of clearing brush and poison ivy, scrounging up plywood and green paint, digging holes and pouring concrete, Vincent, Justin and about a dozen friends did manage to build it — a tree-shaded Wiffle ball version of Fenway Park complete with a 12-foot-tall green monster in center field, American flag by the left-field foul pole and colorful signs for Taco Bell Frutista Freezes.
Greenwich neighbors react in dismay, no doubt believing that anything not compulsory ought to be forbidden. Lawyers are summoned.
Not with a bang, but a whimper.
When I was a kid, there was a greensward just down the street. Thick grass, hoary old oaks and overhangs. Secret trails. Through the cycles of childhood it was first Sherwood for us, before becoming Murkwood and eventually an arbor for stolen kisses, heavy breathing and (ultimately) false promises.
Years later when I was in the neighborhood I stopped back in to smell the deep scents and remember the old times. I remember being surprised how small it was. Being struck by how large and brambled our imaginations had made it.
At least we’d had the chance.
** 11-29-20 Link changed – Ed.
The Lexicans 