Don't Cross The Street - In The Middle

   Dispensing practical advice to kids is just one of the many jobs assigned to parents. You can’t blame them. They see danger where a kid might see fun. Armed with anecdotes about kids who blew their finger off with firecrackers or lost their sight because they wouldn’t eat carrots – parents have a sworn role to protect their kids.

   There was no lack of advice and caution in my household.  I love my parents for it now but I might not have felt the same when I was a kid.

   That’s why I felt so guilty when I ignored my mother’s advice to “never cross in the middle of the street.”

   As a result, I was hit by a car when I was twelve years old.  I slipped my bicycle out into the middle of the street between two parked cars and wham! 

   My bike took most of the hit but the slow-moving car’s bumper popped me in the shin.  It shook me up but not as much as it shook up the elderly driver. I assured him that I was fine and I began walking the bent bicycle home.

   Walking, actually limping, home I was reminded of an annoying but catchy public service announcement that ran on New York City TV and radio stations in the 60’s. It was called “In The Middle.”

   Don't cross the street in the middle in the middle- in the middle - in the middle in the middle of the block; Use your eyes to look up -Use your ears to hear -Walk up to the corner when the coast is clear -And wait - And wait …Until you see the light turn green!

   Find a baby boomer from NYC and they will probably sing the whole tune for you. It was written by longtime songwriter Vic Mizzy who also penned classic TV theme songs including The Addams Family, Mr. Ed and F-Troop.

   Vic’s song was speaking to me on that fateful day.  I had indeed crossed in the middle and in the process I had almost given a little old man a big heart attack. I was too old to be scared and too young to realize how lucky I was that I could even limp away.

   My real fear was facing my mother.  “If I tell her, I will get in trouble for disobeying,” I mistakenly concluded.

   Therefore I did what many adolescents in my situation would have done…I said nothing.  It wasn’t actually a lie, I reasoned, if I didn’t say anything.  Instead, it was more of a cover-up.  I hid the bent bicycle, limped for a few days and surprisingly got away with it.

   I finally did tell my mother almost thirty years later.  She was up late one night watching Carson and we started swapping secrets.

   “Did I ever tell you that I got hit by a car when I was twelve,” I asked her. “Really,” she said not flinching at all. “Yeah – it was no big deal but my bike got crushed and I was afraid to tell you.” 

   Without showing any surprise or concern she paused and then said “what else haven’t you told me?”

   No reports were filed the day I got hit by a car but the evidence still exists on my left leg where a small indentation perfectly fits the front bumper of a 1966 Oldsmobile.

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Allen's Technology Museum Opens

 

   It’s January and if you didn’t receive the memo – it’s officially time to get organized – again.  The holidays are a time to decorate and generally make a mess of things around the house. This month is a time of reckoning.

   Apparently, January 2 was the official New Year’s holiday. For us, it was the official day to take down the Christmas decorations and pack them away.

   That inspired me to tackle a bigger project – my home office closet. While it’s never been spoken, it is the one place in our home that I take full responsibility (or blame) for. My wife would be challenged to guess what’s squirreled away inside but she might characterize it with one word – junk. I see it as more of a technology museum. 

   I have tackled this project before and made good progress.  I gave away hundreds of records and cassette tapes after I sold the 1980’s component stereo. Still, there are items I just can’t part with like the original scratchy albums by the Beatles, Bob Dylan, and other rock legends. I no longer own a turntable but it gives me comfort knowing that they are there. Several hundred CD’s, a small stack of 45’s, a bunch of cassette mix tapes and one 8-track.tape round out the collection.

   Stored above the music is a digital camcorder that captured every moment of our kids’ childhood. I also have a box of the original 8mm video cassettes tapes and backup VHS tapes that have no value, since I no longer own a VHS player. Trays of 35mm slides are balanced on top of the video equipment just waiting for someone to say “let’s look at slides tonight!”

   The box marked cables is literally that - a box of mysterious cables with names like SCSI and RCA and Ethernet. I am afraid throwing out even one cable will lead to a regrettable chain of events.  For example, once people get excited about seeing my home movies and slides, I may need a power cord to hook up the projector.

   The showpiece of my closet museum is a complete set of Aurora H.O. slot cars that I bought used from a high schooler in 1969. I thought they would dazzle my son in the late 1990’s but the Mario Kart video game required no setup, offered more excitement and didn’t smell like burning oil. I’m currently hoping his children will be enthralled with papa’s smelly race cars but I’m not too optimistic. By the way, did you know H.O. stands for Half O, a model train gauge size?

   Your closet may not; probably doesn’t, have 50+ year-old slot cars stashed inside.  Still, there is likely a “museum” somewhere in your house with Barbies or grandma’s fine china or creaky Lionel trains that must be worth something. 

   Make a commitment to open all the boxes in your closet this month.  Dig through them and tell stories about their contents to anyone who will listen. Then carefully repack them into the closet for another year as they increase in value. Your kids may thank you some day for saving all that valuable stuff.

   Send your comments, not your stuff, to flipsidecolumn@gmail.com.