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My Real Memoir
It wasn’t just adventure or the forbidden I craved as a kid, it was the unknown. In fact, I think that was my true, underlying desire: to see things “never before witnessed by human eye!” Not surprisingly, I had a growing love of fantasy and science fiction (fed by Disney movies like Peter Pan and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea). But I didn’t want to just read about unknown places–I wanted to visit them!
And so I did.
One such place was the only pre-suburban house in our city. It was, as I recall, a dead-ringer for the Adam’s Family mansion, a creaky-creepy old Victorian with those two seductive words “No Trespassing” posted on its front door. For a brief, magical time as many as a dozen neighborhood kids would sneak in and play “haunted house” there, making ghostly sounds, and whispering, “Who said that?” “Not me!” And most wondrous of all was the dumb waiter we used to transport each other from floor-to-floor. It had once been used, we had on good authority, to lower murder victims into the basement, whence they would be secretly entombed.
Tragically, our haunted house was boarded up and torn-down a short time later.
But then I discovered another magical place. It may not sound magical, but the upstairs Men’s Restroom at the back of Hiram’s Supermarket housed the secret portal to another world. One day while I was “ocupado” in a stall, I spotted a trapdoor in the low-hanging ceiling. I promptly told my two bffs about it. And we did what any eight-year-old adrenaline-addicts would do: stood on a stack of toilet paper rolls, and pulled ourselves up into Hiram’s Heaven!
It was a thrillingly perilous place, to be sure, where to step on any of the drop-tiled foam panels would result in a 25’ plunge down into the frozen foods, or worse the canned goods. Whereupon one would hear the words, “You are in so much trouble, mister!” when one awoke in the hospital (assuming one had survived the canned goods). But if we walked spread-eagled across the wooden beams (do eagles actually do this?), we could go anywhere in this vast alternative universe!
From there we could look down, like gods from Mt. Olympus (through any lighting fixture hole), at the mere mortals below, who naturally assumed no one was watching them. What we saw was sometimes dull, but often funny, embarrassing, or even illegal–sights “never before witnessed by human eye!”
And yet these magical places paled in comparison to…the Tunnel of Doom!
But that will have to wait until next time!
My Real Memoir is a series. To read the next one, click here.
Mitch Teemley 
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the sense of adventure, wonderful, children need that freedom rather than the fears that are poured into so many hearts. thanks for the memories Mitch, amen
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Ha! Loved your story. As a child, if an adult said, “Don’t you ever go there or do that,” we would think, “What a great idea. Let’s do that!”
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Exactly!
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Somebody once remarked that children should never be told not to put ink in a squirt gun. While the kids would be unlikely to think spontaneously of doing it, they would be likely to yield to temptation once the idea was put into their heads.
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So true!
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Reblogged this on OPENED HERE >> https:/BOOKS.ESLARN-NET.DE.
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Now, that sounds a lot more adventurous and fun than playing video games or watching television!
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Sounds like the makings of a NEW video game, for kids who are less adventurous, or who have no such mysterious and enticing real places in their lives, poor things.
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Poor things, indeed. Virtual reality can never replace the real thing.
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My goodness, what an exciting life you led–even as a child! You might need two volumes for this memoir. (Did I say that before?!)
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I would have been right there with you, if I had been part of your gang. It is truly a wonder that kids like us lived to grow up!
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Haha! You’d be Darla. 😏
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Right!
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I’m so glad that little scamp turned into you so you could let us share his adventures.
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Once a scamp, always a scamp. ;>)
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Wow! You guys really were adventurers, weren’t you? I am sure that personality trait of venturing into the unknown – tempered a bit, perhaps – has served you well into adulthood. Isn’t that a bit what writing is anyway?
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It is indeed, Russ. At some point fairly early on I realized I could never be or do all the things I wanted to, but I COULD imagine and write about them!
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I love your childhood stories!
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Thanks, Jennie!
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You’re welcome, Mitch.
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