Photo courtesy of riotdaily.com
My Real Memoir
It Wasn’t Just the Forbidden…
…that fed my hunger for stimulation. It was the unknown. I think, at age seven, my real, underlying desire was “to go where no kid had gone before!” Not surprisingly, I had a budding passion for fantasy and science fiction. But I didn’t want to just read books or see movies about unknown worlds – I wanted to visit them!
And then I found one! Or rather, Somebody’s Cousin found one. True, our little suburb was only about ten minutes old, and so were our little one-size-fits-all tract homes. But on the edge of town, where Somebody’s Cousin lived, was a dead-ringer for the Adam’s Family house! It was a condemned Victorian masterpiece with five stories, if you counted the attic and the basement where “the bodies” were buried! And right there on the front door was an invitation. It said, “No Trespassing!”
Somebody’s Cousin’s mom was delighted to hear he’d suddenly acquired a dozen of new “playmates,” so she invited us all to come over for a Play Day.
Like Appendixes…
…bejeebers have no known purpose. Hence, it’s best to lose them. And that’s done by having them scared out of you. Halloween was coming, and we were all in the mood for an extraction. And so, for three magical Saturdays in October, a dozen of us would arrive, thank SC’s mom for the bologna-and-cheese sandwiches, and then slink off to play in the haunted house at the end of the street.
We spent hours sneaking up on each other, making otherworldly noises, and whispering, “Who said that?” “Not me!” But the unquestionable E-ticket ride was the dumb waiter! We’d challenged ourselves by seeing how many of us could squeeze into it at once. Then we’d ride lurchingly, screechily down from the attic to the basement where the murder victims were entombed. This, we had it on good authority, was how the Evil Butler had transported them.
We never wanted it to end! But heartbreakingly, our haunted house was boarded up and torn-down shortly before the annual Halloween night invasion of beer-bashing teenagers.
But Then I Discovered Another Magical Place!
It may not sound like it, 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 ceiling. I told my buddy Rory about it, and we did what any seven-year-old adrenaline-addict would do. We stood on a stack of toilet paper rolls, and pulled ourselves up into Hiram’s Heaven!
It was thrillingly perilous, to be sure. To step on any of the drop-tiled foam panels would result in a twenty-five-foot plunge into the frozen foods. Or worse, the canned goods. If we did, we would thereafter hear the words, “You are in so much trouble, mister!” when we awoke in the hospital–assuming we’d 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 alternate universe.
And 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. We’d finally gone…
Where no kid had gone before!
Mitch, this is delightful. You capture something most of us forget as adults—the way childhood wonder doesn’t need permission, safety protocols, or a five‑year plan. It just needs an unopened door, a creaky staircase, or a ceiling tile that looks slightly out of place. What struck me most is how honestly you describe that hunger for “the unknown.” Not rebellion for its own sake, but the thrill of discovering a world that wasn’t on any map adults handed you.
The haunted house, the dumbwaiter, Hiram’s Heaven—each one feels like a portal into that rare season of life when imagination and courage are still fused together. Kids don’t need fantasy novels to find other worlds; they build them out of condemned Victorians, supermarket rafters, and whatever rumors Somebody’s Cousin swears are true.
And beneath the humor, there’s a quiet truth: those early adventures shape us. They teach us how to explore, how to risk, how to see possibility where others only see danger tape. They remind us that wonder is not childish—it’s formative.
Thanks for letting us climb back into those hidden spaces with you. It’s good to remember what it felt like to go “where no kid had gone before.”
“Wonder is not childish—it’s formative.” Amen, Michael.
Had a few of those experiences too…all kids want to go where no kid has gone before…
Some never outgrow it lol
;>)
We had a haunted house nearby and a family round the corner with six children for me to play with. One day one of the girls cut her knee badly on some lethal corrugated iron lying about. We sent her home without it occurring to me or her brothers and sisters that at least one of us should take her home! Their mother was furious when we eventually returned.
Whoa! Kids definitely don’t have the parent gene.
Great story, I hope kids are still exploring the unknowns in their neighbourhoods. 😊 Maggie
Let’s hope so, Maggie. It’s a rite of passage.
We had a haunted house in our neighborhood. Unfortunately, somebody still lived in it! Thanks for sharing your daring adventures, Mitch. 🙂
Was that somebody alive or dead, Nancy? ;>)
Oh, she was alive, Mitch, but their were rumors that the harmless little old lady was a witch. 🧙♀️😁
Of course. ;>)
Lucky you, having those adventures in the old mansion ! . Things like that made for a great childhood experience that youngsters today are lacking. . . Even when I was a kid I was very attracted to historical/vintage buildings , from the Victorian era , Art Nouveau to Art Deco, . . people thought I was weird for that. . . Being from the suburbs in a house built in the 50s, I rarely saw anything great, as in this photo, except in the city.. .Many people cared nothing about excellence and history and not so long after, demolished those old buildings willy nilly as junk, to make shopping centers, and tract housing.
Too true, Katie.
I’d still like to explore such an abandoned house, but my husband won’t let me.☹
;>)
Wow, what adventures! It’s amazing you made it to adulthood, Mitch! That house could have been gorgeous if someone had renovated it. So sad to think it was torn down. Amazing picture.
Thanks, Caroll! The house really was amazing. I don’t actually have photograph of it (except in my memory), but this one reminded me of it.
Love this! I had a scary house on my street. I’d walk home from school and the seven yellow cats would sit on the porch bannister and hiss at me. Never saw them except walking home. Always heard one of the folks that had lived there had been a bank robber and had buried the money in the back yard. My oldest son spent many happy childhood hours with my nephew digging for treasure in their yard. Thanks for stirring up some childhood memories.
My pleasure, Anonymous friend.
And eventually your parents heard of these exploits (no doubt at Thanksgiving when you were around thirty-something) and did the jaw-drop thing (yes, I am speaking from experience with my own progeny).
;>)
So much mischief to be discovered in the restrooms. Especially back when the restrooms at the convenience stores were around back of the building!
Yep, the were up a flight of wooden stairs in the warehouse.
Sounds like you had a fascinating childhood! Thanks for sharing such wonderful stories.
My pleasure, Crafts. (I’m afraid I don’t know your name.)
In fact, every generation had its version of ‘open world gaming.’ Yours just came with actual gravity, Mitch.
;>)
I haven’t heard the expression, “scared the bejeebers outa me” for ages, Mitch. I enjoyed your take on it. Great post!
Thank you, Terry!
Great days! Loved this 🙂
Thanks, TT!
My ex husband and his best friend would do the same at their high school. Climbing around under the ceiling tiles and entering rooms when the school was closed. They’d go to the band room and jam on the piano and drums.
Creative vandalism! ;>)
Fine Story. There’s many Music in it.
– It reminds me on the Coverfoto from the Stanley Clarke Record “Hideaway”. The rotten Window and the Afterglow (of Childhood; I guess) And on the Dan Fogelberg Album “The innocent age”.
– When I saw the Picture of that post first, it sang out of me: There’s a liiiiight over at the Frankenstein Palace… 🙂
– And in the end there is Georg Danzers Song of “Große Dinge” = Big adventures of a little Daydreamer who’s sitting in his selfmade cabin in a wood and his biggest wish is having the courage to slap the big boy from the neighbourhouse down…
Wow, bit memory trigger!
At first I thought it was Mark Twain’s house in Hartford Ct. really neat post, thanks.
It does look a bit like it. And thank you, Eileen.
This house must have held a lot of memories! Imagine if you could go back one last time to take it all in. That would be something!
This was nice! Have a nice day!
BBB
Thanks, you too, BBB!
No haunted houses, but creepy dark woods full of ghouls and goblins.
Mitch, you always, always, ALWAYS have me on the edge of my seat! I can assure you that I consistently say to myself, “……and then what?……………and then what?”
Thank you, Mitch! Cher xoxoxo
Very cool! Boys were always the brave ones.