The Old Garage

When I was just a boy, less than 8 years-old, we had an old one car garage to the side and back of the house. There were perhaps 2 dozen native plum trees behind the garage. They were just big enough for a 6-8 year-old to climb and sit there eating the plums right off the branches, which is just what I did. There was a larger tree beside the garage that I could climb and then transfer over to the roof of the garage. Why did I do that? Simple, one I loved being up on any roof and two, it was the perfect spot to take any loose umbrella around the house and use it as a parachute to jump off the garage. They never worked as a parachute, but I tried every one I could find.

When I was 11, I discovered basketball. My father cut all the fruit trees down within an inch above ground and then put a basketball goal up under the peak of the roof and gave me a basketball for my birthday. I used it a lot, but there were problems with it. First, dribbling the ball was impossible because the tiny stumps made the ball bounce in any direction possible off the stumps and second, when the ball would  bounce up off the rim it would hit the nails protruding through the sheeting holding the roof shingles on the garage and pop the ball.

One other memory of the old garage comes to mind. A friend had a BB gun and brought it over one day so we could shoot pop bottles against the back inside wall of the garage. It was great fun until dad came wheeling home from work. He just couldn’t understand why we thought it was fun shattering bottles where the broken glass could end up under his tires. Dad was funny that way.