I spent ten years at 2979 Baldwin Brook Drive in Montgomery, Alabama. I learned to ride a bike there, got in trouble for climbing on the backyard shed my dad and grandpa built. There were large (and thus scary) spiders in pampas grass opposite the shed. I remember when a teenage neighbor boy shot his drunk dad and making boiling mud in the sandbox. I learned to play the piano, ride a
There are some other things that I remember as well, personal things not so pleasant. For some reason, I would end up in near fights with those around me. Not being a fighter they never devolved into fisticuffs, but it seems that I was always slipping and sliding toward the drain called argument. During those Baldwin Brook Drive days two driveways to the North there was a fellow I think was named John. I mainly remember him in the context of his driveway, and nearly getting into a fight. He and I never got along. I cannot begin to point to an event fostering any hostility. I fear this is simply the way I am built–an automatic thing in my life.
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