The book down the street stank. Growing up I never heard the word "polluted," the pollution was the cause of the foul odor. It was not until many years later (EPA regulations later?) that I learned that a nearby chemical company used to dump their waste into the brook.
My brothers brought home round toothpick size viles they found dumped in the woods. We called the trees growing alongside the brook, the woods. There was a path leading to the elevated railroad tracks at the end. I watched at least one brother and his friend use a rope to fly across the shallow brook to the other side.
I was only allowed to go into the woods with older siblings. One time we wandered away from the path, to a somewhat cleared section. I marveled at the salt licks. Was not until many moons later that I learned a salt lick's purpose. There were some metal clothes hangers amid other debris; remnants of a small camp size fire. My sister, I think, said it was the bums' camp. The reason mom did not allow me to go into the woods was, the bums.
Later, I thought they were homeless man. Today I imagine, they may have been tramps, vagrants or hobos who hopped trains traveling around looking for work or avoiding it. I never saw any men hanging out in or near the woods.
When we got older, my younger sister and I went to the end of the path, climbed the embankment, to cross to the other side. There were two sets of tracks. I told her it was safe to walk on the tracks (too narrow to walk alongside) because the trains did not use that track. Oops, I was wrong, but we made the walk to the otherside of the brook safely. There was no way I would use the rope to get to the otherside of the brook and I was curious to explore that side.
Today's world, one can not walk along the brook. For some years it was still accessible by shimming around a fence. Long ago, the woods gave way to a bowling alley with wide parking lot that ran along what was left of the narrow path. The other side was not accessible at all. Old factories torn down, it became a limited access park of some sort. The bowling alley became an egg factory and later a Charter school
The wall in the Google map image is new. The last time I was there it was still the old crumbling stone wall that I used to stand behind, often throwing stones into the brook with delighted youngsters. The brook no longer smells putrid; it still floods the street corner after heavy rains. Often causing flooding in my mother's basement.
The brook runs for miles, often underground. A brother took me ice skating in a different section of that brook. We had to skate around vehicle tires and other junk frozen in the ice. That section of the woods must have been covered over as it is no longer visible from along the cemetery.
I truly got sidetracked on this post about the polluted brook. The correct word for those tiny pointed vials of chemicals might be ampoules. Maybe more the width of a straw, but as long as a toothpick or slightly larger. I vaguely remember a brother breaking one of those in half and the smell was a pleasantly odd odor. Perhaps sweet and foul? I may have even broken one myself, imitating the brother. I suppose the liquid from inside the tubes just landed on the ground.
Hopefully if the chemicals got on our hands, we were quick to wash them, but doubtful. Kids, ya know!
My brothers brought home round toothpick size viles they found dumped in the woods. We called the trees growing alongside the brook, the woods. There was a path leading to the elevated railroad tracks at the end. I watched at least one brother and his friend use a rope to fly across the shallow brook to the other side.
I was only allowed to go into the woods with older siblings. One time we wandered away from the path, to a somewhat cleared section. I marveled at the salt licks. Was not until many moons later that I learned a salt lick's purpose. There were some metal clothes hangers amid other debris; remnants of a small camp size fire. My sister, I think, said it was the bums' camp. The reason mom did not allow me to go into the woods was, the bums.
Later, I thought they were homeless man. Today I imagine, they may have been tramps, vagrants or hobos who hopped trains traveling around looking for work or avoiding it. I never saw any men hanging out in or near the woods.
When we got older, my younger sister and I went to the end of the path, climbed the embankment, to cross to the other side. There were two sets of tracks. I told her it was safe to walk on the tracks (too narrow to walk alongside) because the trains did not use that track. Oops, I was wrong, but we made the walk to the otherside of the brook safely. There was no way I would use the rope to get to the otherside of the brook and I was curious to explore that side.
Today's world, one can not walk along the brook. For some years it was still accessible by shimming around a fence. Long ago, the woods gave way to a bowling alley with wide parking lot that ran along what was left of the narrow path. The other side was not accessible at all. Old factories torn down, it became a limited access park of some sort. The bowling alley became an egg factory and later a Charter school
The wall in the Google map image is new. The last time I was there it was still the old crumbling stone wall that I used to stand behind, often throwing stones into the brook with delighted youngsters. The brook no longer smells putrid; it still floods the street corner after heavy rains. Often causing flooding in my mother's basement.
The brook runs for miles, often underground. A brother took me ice skating in a different section of that brook. We had to skate around vehicle tires and other junk frozen in the ice. That section of the woods must have been covered over as it is no longer visible from along the cemetery.
I truly got sidetracked on this post about the polluted brook. The correct word for those tiny pointed vials of chemicals might be ampoules. Maybe more the width of a straw, but as long as a toothpick or slightly larger. I vaguely remember a brother breaking one of those in half and the smell was a pleasantly odd odor. Perhaps sweet and foul? I may have even broken one myself, imitating the brother. I suppose the liquid from inside the tubes just landed on the ground.
Hopefully if the chemicals got on our hands, we were quick to wash them, but doubtful. Kids, ya know!
