Fields of Dreams

When I think back on my childhood growing up in Bakersfield, most of my earliest memories are vague, yet some how still distinct. I can’t really be sure sometimes if it’s because I was so young or it’s because I’m really just remembering the stories that were told to me over the years. I think the truth most lie somewhere in between.

I distinctly remember our home; newly built, and most certainly on a very strict budget. There was no carpet (or at least not for the most part) and my brother and sister would sometimes place me on a towel and run full speed down the hallway while I clutched the cloth tightly in my fists, squealing with delight. There were times, perhaps more than a few, when control was lost, corners were met, and tears were shed. Undoubtedly my big brother was punished; for being the oldest and hurting his baby sister. But I never cared. I never blamed him for a thing. It’s funny to me how t pain is so easily forgotten while the fun; the unabashed joy of careening recklessly across the linoleum sticks with me.

I often complain about the cookie cutter, track home, “white flight” neighborhoods popping up all over Bakersfield, but the truth of it is, I grew up in a neighborhood very similar to those. There were no fancy names back then; no walled in areas, or four models to choose from, but the premise was the same. It was a middle class, white bread neighborhood on the very edge of town. And I mean the VERY edge of town. Besides the Jr. High built right next door, there was nothing else.

Nothing else except miles and miles of dirt fields. Fields full of tumble weeds, dirt clods, cacti, sumps, penny toads, fire ants, and lizards. Fields full of adventure, exploration, imagination, and wonder.

Don’t get me wrong. It was very often hot, and sometimes it was boring. Dry, tedious, long, and slow. My mother would make us go outside to play, then lock door behind us so she could get her cleaning done. The days seem to last for weeks, and the weeks seem to last for years. Sometimes I remember that feeling – that mind set – like life never changed. The only difference was when the sun shined bright, and the fog hung heavy. My childhood seemed to go on forever.

Now, sometimes, I wish that it did.