Red's Wrap
Happiness. It's relative.
Street Sport Time
Right around dinner time, the boy who lives across the street in a big green house
practices a jump on his skateboard in the middle of the street, oblivious to traffic and people watching from their windows.
He is thin and shirtless with bleached blond hair and
is as committed to this jump as a monk is to keeping all the candles lit at the prayer wall.
When he misses his jump, which he always does, the skateboard claps on the pavement
and it is loud and public, unabashed as if the street is his own private practice field.
When he is tired he sits on the lawn with his small dog, a dachshund that barks all the time
and sometimes he puts on his shirt and walks the dog around the block.
I remember my son in the middle of the street throwing a football high in the air
and then running down the street to catch it, sometimes I could see his lips moving,
wishing himself luck maybe or playing the role of the announcer, congratulating himself.
He could catch the balls he threw, he never tried skateboards, so, there is no comparison.
The street is there for this purpose, to be the place boys go to live in their heads,
envision themselves as great athletes, not knowing or caring who is watching their lips moving.
It is a gift to be this way, shirtless and unaware, the skateboard clapping again and again,
picked up and then tucked under one arm to go walk the dog.
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Snow Door | wisconsinacademy.org
Listen to Jan read her essay “Billy” presented on WUWM’s Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “At the Breakfast Bar” on WUWM Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “The Parish Hall,” on WUWM Lake Effect
“Fury Cannot Touch Me,” Modern Love, NYT, 9/29/11
Yes, what is it about kids and playing in the street? When we were kids we would play things like touch football in the street–despite the fact that there was a beautiful park with a nice field 200 feet away.