Many of the streets and most of the sidewalks in my hometown were paved, though there were several streets that were surfaced with well-packed and frequently graded and smoothed crushed limestone. A few block-long streets that were seldom used were left unsurfaced by anything but the packed black dirt that covered most of Marion County and turned to even blacker mud after a rain or snow melt. Yet nearly every street that fronted houses had concrete sidewalks. Some of the walks were old, cracked and had been heaved up by developing tree roots over the years.
It seemed that maintenance and replacement of unsafe walks was the responsibility of the residents, and many vacant lots sported sidewalks that were barely navigable for foot traffic, let alone being suitable for kids on roller-skates. Any new home construction was soon followed by newly paved sidewalks which became instantly popular with the many youngsters who ventured forth on spring days with their steel clamp-on roller-skates, the key on a string dangling around their neck, ready to tighten the clamps after each fall or other mishap that tore the clamps away from the soles of sturdy leather shoes. There was a skating rink at the County fairground, but it was open only on weekends and two evenings during the week and meant for the use of seasoned skaters on shoe-skates, not kids learning to keep their balance coasting downhill on concrete walkways.
It was a fine spring day in 1943, and my friend Eleanor and I were strolling close to where she lived, about half of the way from school to my house. Many days, I would stop to play until time to hurry home for supper. This happened so often that my mother seemed to know why I didn’t arrive at home within a half hour after dismissal (maybe Eleanor’s mother phoned to let her know where I was.) That particular day, we decided to take our roller-skates and try out the incredibly smooth new sidewalk that had been recently poured in front of a new apartment building a few blocks away from Eleanor’s house. While she changed clothes and took care of her few after-school chores, I would hurry home to change my clothes, get my skates and meet her back at the gently sloping hill where the lovely new sidewalk enticed us with its promise of no cracks, bumps or skinned knees for an entire block!
At home, I went immediately to what we called “the playroom” between the kitchen and bathroom, where there was a large walk-in closet and a chest of drawers where most of our clothes were kept. “Come in here,” Mother called while I was changing clothes, “I want to talk to you.”
“Eleanor and I are going skating,” I called back. “She’ll be waiting.” When she said that I’d have to call and tell Eleanor that I couldn’t go skating today, I felt a flash of anger – after-school hours had always been free time for us. Mother never refused us a reasonable chance for after-school activities; she knew we needed exercise and a chance to unwind after a day at school. “She’s meeting me where we’re going to skate,” I explained, none too patiently. “I can’t phone her; she’ll be outdoors waiting for me.” When she continued to insist, I stomped rebelliously to the living room, ready to fight for my right to go skating. But all my arguments died before they reached my lips, for there on the coffee-colored mohair sofa that I had known all my life, sat Mother – and Dad – home from the Army!
I have no idea where my three sisters were at the time. Possibly they were all with Mrs. Allard who often baby-sat with us when our parents went out for dinner, a movie or an evening with friends. All I remember is flying into Dad’s arms and crying with joy at having him home again. I was a bit annoyed, later, when I realized that Mother had to have known he was coming home and hadn’t told us. We would have been so happy for a few days of anticipation, like looking forward to Christmas, but that resentment soon disappeared and all the old, comfortable routines were reestablished. Even Dad’s usual corny joke as he came home from work and unpacked the groceries, reciting the list as he took out each item. “bread, eggs, Grape-Nuts®, applesauce – and toilet paper – now you can eat again.”