Won't You Be My Neighbor?

When I was born, I lived on a relatively busy street in West Springfield, MA. It was just two houses away from the high school, which meant that irresponsible 16-year-olds were carelessly driving up and down the street in front of my house on a daily basis. The front yard was not exactly a safe place to be playing tea party with your stuffed animals and dolls.


I was an only child for quite some time so I quickly learned to entertain myself. After years of seeing me build forts in the backyard with folding lawn chairs or pushing my doll on my swing set, my parents decided it was necessary to move to a neighborhood with kids...and lots of them.
And, boy, did they ever deliver.
My parents built a house on Edgewood Road where kids my age were in abundance! This was the perfect place for "Tricia".
Soon after moving in, I found performance costars, back up singers, fellow "PTA moms", biker gang members, Olympic swimmers and divers and soldiers all disguised as my childhood friends.


We'd sled down Turmel's hill every winter. We'd have chocolate covered donuts every Sunday after church. We'd have a neighborhood Easter egg hunt every spring (even in the snow). We'd have pool parties and cookouts every summer. Halloween was quite a sight!
We'd put on plays (Wizard of Oz) on Nazzal's deck and recreate Troop Beverly Hills in Fiorentino's basement. We'd play "War" in the woods and play "Mom" on bikes in the driveway. "Gotta drop the kids off at soccer practice."
This neighborhood was like a family to me...even after my only child status was removed. Everyone just looked out for one another. It was a real community.
Mrs. Williams drove me home with two Freeze Pops after I fell off my bike and needed stitches in my knee. Mrs. Liebel would play the piano with the windows open every evening during dinner. Dr. Collins was my parents' first phone call when Mike or I weren't feeling well or got hurt. We always knew when Mr. Turmel was home from work as his brakes would squeak coming down the hill. You could hear the basketball dribbles coming from Ranstrom's driveway on a daily basis. You shared in the stress/laughter when a bat got into the Turmel's house.
The Ding Dong Cart would make a mint driving down our street...every day during the summer...just as we were sitting down to dinner. Kids from all houses would appear from thin air and run to the side of the road for a cool treat.
It was sad to leave such a great place but it was necessary. There wasn't an Edgewood University for us all to attend.
I went off to college and then my mother sold our house. Other families have also moved on from this great place where lots of my childhood memories still live on. When I'm in the area, I'll sometimes drive by and reminisce about those good times.
My neighbors today are nowhere near as great...although they do provide me with some amazing laughs and blog posts. For example, just this past Saturday this man was shoveling the grass. Not quite sure why. This is the same man that walked into my apartment when I first moved in asking for iced coffee. Good times...