I grew up on a dirt lane. When I was young it didn't even have a name, at least not that most were aware of, not even Dad. This little dirt lane lead to just five houses. It terminated in the yard of the last house. Beyond that was an open field and two rolling hills. Why that space in the wood was open I never questioned but surely it was cleared at some point in time. Wild blueberries grew there. Those hills were great for sledding. Perhaps it was an abandoned farm but no traces of a farmhouse remained. Perhaps it was no more than the beginning of a dream, one never realized. That dirt lane, and it was a lane as roads lead to somewhere, is the beginning of my journey. But when I go home, I go up that lane.
I haven't been there physically in many years. I did look at Google maps, the satellite view, and discovered that lane is still unpaved. Amazing, in the " Hamptons " a dirt lane ? It has been so for over sixty years that I can personally vouch for. I see there is only one additional house on that lane. On the satellite it looks pretty much unchanged, the houses all look familiar. I find that a bit comforting. At some point, probably about 1968 or so it became Hunting Lane. That is what the post office said it is and that is where we put our mailbox. Prior to that we had to have a post office box in town. Funny I don't remember a house number though, just hunting lane. When I wrote home after joining the navy that is all I put on the envelope. Mrs. Ruth Reichart, Huntting Lane, East Hampton, L.I. N.Y. 11937. They always got there. Of course the mailman knew Mom and everyone else in town. As far as I know my house never had a number.
It was on that dirt lane, although we called it a road, that I learned to ride a bicycle and later to drive a car. The bicycle took me uptown, later the car took me much farther. You hear of those that say they went down the road and never looked back. That is not the case with me, I am always looking over my shoulder. For all the places I have been and traveled to, I have always looked back. That dirt road is in the rearview mirror but not out of sight. I do not think it will ever be out of sight. I sure hope not anyway. We can't know with certainty where we are going but know where we have been. I know where this journey began and don't want to lose sight of it. Guess you could say I'm afraid of getting lost. There is some truth in that I suppose but it isn't the way I see it. No I just see a safe harbor and a secure anchorage. It is the port I travel too in a storm. It is always there, waiting, and inviting. Our childhood should be a safe place and those memories a comfort. I am blessed to have had that place and time. I am blessed to have those memories. My dirt lane is still unpaved and I wouldn't have it any other way.
I haven't been there physically in many years. I did look at Google maps, the satellite view, and discovered that lane is still unpaved. Amazing, in the " Hamptons " a dirt lane ? It has been so for over sixty years that I can personally vouch for. I see there is only one additional house on that lane. On the satellite it looks pretty much unchanged, the houses all look familiar. I find that a bit comforting. At some point, probably about 1968 or so it became Hunting Lane. That is what the post office said it is and that is where we put our mailbox. Prior to that we had to have a post office box in town. Funny I don't remember a house number though, just hunting lane. When I wrote home after joining the navy that is all I put on the envelope. Mrs. Ruth Reichart, Huntting Lane, East Hampton, L.I. N.Y. 11937. They always got there. Of course the mailman knew Mom and everyone else in town. As far as I know my house never had a number.
It was on that dirt lane, although we called it a road, that I learned to ride a bicycle and later to drive a car. The bicycle took me uptown, later the car took me much farther. You hear of those that say they went down the road and never looked back. That is not the case with me, I am always looking over my shoulder. For all the places I have been and traveled to, I have always looked back. That dirt road is in the rearview mirror but not out of sight. I do not think it will ever be out of sight. I sure hope not anyway. We can't know with certainty where we are going but know where we have been. I know where this journey began and don't want to lose sight of it. Guess you could say I'm afraid of getting lost. There is some truth in that I suppose but it isn't the way I see it. No I just see a safe harbor and a secure anchorage. It is the port I travel too in a storm. It is always there, waiting, and inviting. Our childhood should be a safe place and those memories a comfort. I am blessed to have had that place and time. I am blessed to have those memories. My dirt lane is still unpaved and I wouldn't have it any other way.
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