I was playing with Google Earth last night. Neat stuff. I rolled it over to the neighborhood I grew up in, and was shocked to see how much had changed.

Now, I didn’t grow up on the farm, or anything like that. Rome (Georgia) at the time was a medium-small town, but my neighborhood was a subdivision. Nothing like the hyper-neighborhoods, with 200,000 dollar houses on 2/10 of an acre (like the one I’m currently living in); but a subdivision nonetheless. The roads ran in a big square, a half-mile in circumference, with a couple of cul-de-sacs off of that. Our house was a 2-story cape cod, with a generous back yard that backed up onto 75 acres or so of woods. A gas pipeline right-of-way ran from the backyard up a hill through the woods to the main road, maybe a half-mile away. A creek, full of small bream and sunfish and crawfish, ran through the neighborhood. The subdivision had a pool in the center. As kids, we believed that we were surrounded by dangerous heathens and during any forays into the woods you had to be armed with slingshots and bb guns for protection against these dark forces (i.e., the teenagers who lived at the top of the gas line right-of-way). We dammed the creek at least twice a summer and once found a concrete mixing tub in the woods that became our battleship until a flood washed it too far downstream to recover. We were more fascinated than frightened by the water moccasins that shared our playground. On the other side of the subdivision was an unfinished road, with a hillside that had been cut away before whatever building project it was supposed to be was abandoned. We christened it “Daredevil Hill”, as it was a constant dare to ride your dirt bikes down the cliff-like hill. There was a convenience store perhaps a mile and a half away that we would cut through the woods to get to, as it had a stand-up Donkey Kong game and a slushie machine. This trip was usually risky, because it ended on Batsun Drive. The Batsuns had several teen sons who’d usually chase us off; we were convinced be’d become a gruesome sacrifice were we ever caught. But they also had Batsun Lake- really, just a pond- which harbored huge catfish and snapping turtles. Trips to the pool when I was young were always cause for celebration. As I got older, I’d enjoy floating on a raft in the pool in the evening, watching distant heat lightning lighting the clouds I could see just over Mount Alto; the ridge that rose 900 feet above the subdivision. After we were old enough to drive cars, we’d race each other in time trials on Radio Springs Road, which went over the crest of Mount Alto. In high school, I was on the school’s cross country team; so during the summer, after my 5 mile training runs around the neighborhood around 9 at night after the heat had abated somewhat, I’d have the pool to myself. We weren’t supposed to use the pool after dark, but in those days, no one really complained.

Daredevil Hill is now just another part of the subdivision, which Google Earth had shown me had grown into a sprawling mega-subdivision. I wonder how the kids there now entertain themselves? Do they still trudge up the creek through the woods, imagining themselves mighty explorers? Do they still build forts against the teenage invaders? I could see that our old house was still there; but who was living in it now that it’s 35 years old? Were those moldy porn magazines we found under a creek bridge still stashed under the insulation in the attic?

I kind of pity the kids in the neighborhood I live in now. 700 houses and a pool; there are still woods and the Mulberry River… but I never see any kids playing in them. Have yet to run across a fort, or see a bb-gun war. Yeah, I had an Atari 2600 game console growing up; but playing in the creek was always more entertaining than playing River Run… is that were all the kids are now? In front of an X-Box 360? I can’t say too much, as I now spend more time on my ass in front of a computer than running through the woods. Maybe I’m living their childhood… they should try living mine; I think they’d enjoy it more.