Life was good as a kid in Edgewood in the seventies. I had two older brothers, loving parents, a big house to roam in and lots of friends. We also had a dog named Bodri who was half German Shepherd, half Labrador Retriever and wholly a legend. She fought dogs, could terrify strangers and threatened new friends. She also loathed the mailman with a fury that never waned despite seeing him six days a week year after year.

Still, with us she was loving except for when my brothers and I would rumble. Then Bodri would jump in, gnashing her teeth, growling and rolling with us on the carpet. Interestingly, when we wrestled, this dog always helped the underdog, consistently defending whoever was losing. When it came to bedtime, however, Bodri was steadfastly loyal. She slept in my bed. My mom would tuck me in and shoo away Bodri who would then dutifully trot out but linger around the corner. After my mom floated downstairs, Bodri would saunter back in and slide into my bed like a Slinky in reverse climbing a stair. Bodri would unapologetically stretch out to claim a sizable part of the bed. I was more than willing to contort my body, sacrificing my comfort for her comfort. 

I would then reach for my pocket radio, making sure the volume was off. I’d slowly boost the sound to hear the Yankees post game show. Yankee players babbled on about their achievements and “giving the team 110%.” That couldn’t end soon enough before the main attraction – the out-of-town scoreboard. I would lie still, filled with mounting anxiety as the broadcaster rattled off scores, making quick mention of which pitcher won and which players hit home runs. When the Orioles won, a gleeful spasm ricocheted throughout my body. When they lost, gloom filled me. But with my feet on Bodri and my ear on the radio, no one ever really lost.

I have not written about Scarsdale, about Edgewood memories, but I would like to.  The biggest one is that my brother and I walked to school alone – two blocks, cutting through the neighbor’s yard twice a day (coming home for lunch) from the time we were 5 years old.   WHO DOES THAT NOW????  The big rock was always a boat, with a little dingy off the edge of it, the dirt was the sea.  Miss Bauer had us plant bulbs in the fall which would always come up in the spring – we stole raw pasta and ate it in the supply closet, the weird drainage dip in the middle of the playground which was so much fun to ride our bicycles on….

I also have memories of Denise’s house – Her house was AMAZING!  No strictness – her mom worked, which meant Dark Shadows, Ringdings, and BARBIE!

Halloween at your house was the best, Chris. I remember a haunted house with scary noises, and  bowls full of cold wormy things ( spaghetti???) and eyeballs (apparently peeled grapes). And it was sort of a juxtaposition, in my mind, because your house – -like Desiree’s – -always seemed pretty strict. Treats were monitored, TV time was carefully doled out there was always a parent there…… But its funny, now, that this seemed strict. I guess it was strict compared to mine; we never had any parents home, and junk food was a staple.

There was an annual block party on Barry road. The entire neighborhood came. There were steamers, and corn on the cob, and games for all the kids, and the night always ended with some lame-ass fireworks. One year , one of the fireworks sailed over a house, and landed on the roof of your next door neighbors (The Woods????? The name escapes me). It caused a massive fire ( in my kid memory, the house burned to the ground, but I doubt that this is true).

I was over at the Parkers house with my sister Dori, Deb and Laura Parker. We were in the kitchen. Mrs Parker had just bought a set of Corell LivingWare dishes. They were heavily advertised on TV as being unbreakable, so we decided to test it, and smashed  at least half the set on the floor before she walked in.

If you walked down Edgewood Road, then over to Woods Lane, the houses backed up against a stream, a tangle of bushes, and then a wooded hillside. As I remember, Timmy Allen and I would go exploring back there, climbing up into the woods and coming out onto an old delapitated farmhouse. In my memory, the place was creaky and deserted, and once a crazy old farmer appeared out of nowhere and chased us away. But I could have just imagined that.

In Mr. Frantz’s 5th grade class we had a weekly show-and-tell. One time I brought to class a plastic bag filled with the skeleton of a chicken that Tim and I had found up at the farm. For some reason I assumed and anticipated that everyone would be extremely interested in this “find” and the story of how I got it. But the stinky carcass did not go over well, with Mr. Frantz or with my classmates. I had had a crush on Mr. Frantz, so this was quite a let-down. But I was already pretty sure I was on the outs with him, after I got into a fight with Billy Greyson and threw one of those big, hard schoolyard balls at Billy inside the classroom. Billy ducked, the ball smashed an entire table full of test tubes and other science equipment. Unfortunately, at this catastrophic moment, Mr. Frantz walked back into the classroom.

Strangely, Mr. Frantz didn’t get angry. He just sighed and just looked incredibly disappointed at me and told me to clean up the mess. That sense that I had done something irredeemable, and that now my teacher had given up on me, was awful.

When I was 5, my sisters married me to Doug McDowell  — two  doors down. It was a big deal: they curled my hair like Shirley temple, and dressed me in one of my sisters’ dresses, so it would reach the floor. After the elaborate backyard ceremony, Doug and I planned that he would live on top of the upright piano at our house, and I would bring him oreos. We figured no one would ever be able to see him there because it was so high up.

Of course, I didn’t grow up on Edgewood road exactly — I was around the corner on Barry Road — but I spent an awful lot of time on Edgewood. And it was  all such a unique neighborhood; I think the ratio of kids to parents had to be at least 3:1. I know that on my street alone, there were 50+ kids between the age of 5 and 12.   So we not only ruled the road, we ruled the world. Endless games of box ball and kick-the-can, monkey-in-the-middle and tennis (or some bastardized version thereof) would only break when a car crept near, and even then, the car was always at the mercy of our schedule. I would’ve been terrified to be an adult driving  in that area.

We all walked to school back then. Our crossing guard — where Edgewood and Nelson roads intersected, at the corner of the Edgewood elementary school — was Miss Francis, I think. Chris, as I remember it, you and I loved her. I don’t know why. And we took it upon ourselves to make her an Easter basket filled with toys and candy. I specifically remember that we included a white chocolate bunny. I had never seen white chocolate before, and I really WANTED that bunny; it was tough to give it up. I remember meeting you that morning, all excited about what we were about to do, and ceremoniously presenting it to her. I wonder how many kids got hit by cars during the exchange…..

Funny how we lived diagonally across the street from each other and couldn’t have had more opposite upbringings! Ha! No one ever called me in for dinner or to go to bed, we were left feral to prowl and explore and get in whatever trouble we could manage. I just came across some pictures of you and me on my front steps with your dog, the white lab (name escapes me) and it really brought me back to who were we then and who are we now and how that circuitous road led us to here? I remember we’d play a game where I was Catwoman and you were Kitten (or Batgirl?) and I would just boss you around…sounds like fun?! I will find more pics and send you more memories of the Dunns, The Woods, The Holbrooks, the Allens, the whole gang! We ruled the waspy Edgewood roads of our Jewish community! Ha ha. $carsdale was quite the trip!