Stark Street Friends
It’s funny how you still think about your boyhood days,
After you get old and have time to think back a long ways.
My friends from the old neighborhood, I think about a lot,
Because of the good times we had growing up on the block.
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Mom, and Deniese on the back porch of the old house on Stark Street. Notice Dad’s International Travelall in the driveway.
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Stark Street Friends
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Ronnie A. lived right next door to me to the north side,
He was a year older and sometimes beat on my hide.
He led me astray on scavenger hunts for those raw eggs,
Then we threw them at houses and ran away with our legs.
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Ronnies big claim to Stark Street fame was his pecker size.
His was the biggest by far of all the neighborhood guys.
When he got to be older, he was a very popular guy.
Running with the high school “in” crowd, as off he did fly
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Everett H. lived across the street one house to the north.
He had big shoulders, slim hips, and glasses of course.
One time he picked up a dog turd trying to get a stone,
And we called him “stinky hand” until he was long gone.
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When Everett got older, his dad bought him a Rocket 88,
Oldsmobile of pink and white that he took on hot dates.
That cool looking car made him the neighborhood stud.
After he got the car, he still hung out with his good buds.
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Charlie R. lived three houses across and down the street,
His dad was superintendent of Philtex Plant so very elite.
And belonged to the Huber country club near to Borger,
So Charlie was kind of a spoiled rotten little booger.
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Whoops, this is Charlie B. Not Charlie R.
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One time Charlie and I were looking for scrap copper,
And got caught inside Philtex plant by one of the workers.
They hauled us to the front in a pickup and then let us out,
But we didn’t get in trouble as his dad was boss, no doubt.
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Rocky C. lived over on Hamilton Drive directly behind me,
With his aunt and uncle that grew a giant garden yearly.
They canned lots of dill pickles Rocky snuck out for us,
That were so good when we met at our hideout to cuss.
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We used to poke sparrows out of clothes line poles at night,
And slip them in screen doors and ring the doorbell on site.
Then watch the fun as those birds flew inside the house,
With owners waving and cursing trying to get them out.
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These guys I ran with during Stark Street nights and days,
Still hang in my memory as this old man still does play,
While writing down my thoughts still lingering in my brain,
As I sit in my easy chair and relive those days with no pain.
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I feel sorry for those people who have Alsheimers so bad,
And just can’t recall all the old memories they have had.
If I could not remember all those fun times from back then,
I think I would certainly want my old life to come to an end.
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By Bill
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Thanks for reading Stark Street Friends,
Bill