This blog is brought to you by the letter V
V is for Vacant
When I was a kid the playground that we used was a vacant lot in our area. We only had one park where we lived and usually that was filled with little kids. We could not let loose with our grown up cussing mouths nor the odd drag of a cigarette to look cool. Little kids could be tattle tales and all we needed was for one of them to go home and say oh guess who was at the park smoking? Or guess who I heard swearing? My dad was a part time construction worker and part time cab driver so he knew many families. He was a very stern man and somehow he always knew what we were up too. There was one vacant lot I remember and it was the best hang out a young teenager could have. It was an old arena that had been half torn down and at the back there was a wooded area. For those that are reading this and if you are from my city you may remember the old Artic Arena. It was within hollering distance to my house so that was an added bonus. Now back when I was younger our parents never had to worry about the risks we do now. Anyway some pretty fond moments happened in that vacant lot and in all honesty, that’s where I got my first hickey…LOL. Damn those were the days. I had my first cigarette and my first drink in that vacant lot. There were a group of us that hung out there. In the summer it was wonderful since the woods were right behind it and well as you can imagine, it was a good place to keep out of sight…lol. Then I moved out of that area and well, I was a bit older and made a new gang of friends. I graduated from the vacant lot to hanging at the Golf Course. Oh the stories that place holds, but thats for another time.