7015 Lena was “home” during my growing up years. Not much to look at, it was in “the county” of St. Louis, a small town scarcely even heard of unless you lived there or nearby. Diversity was just beginning, and we were one of the two black families (in the whole area) “lucky enough” to experience it. I can still hear racial slurs flying at me as I walked home from Dairy Queen. Momma, the queen that she was, taught us to strive to be better than that ignorance.
It took some time for this house to feel like home, I am quite sure it was haunted, lol. Not so much like Poltergeist, but I guess it was what happened there that continued to haunt me decades after leaving there. I used to have “Freddy Krueger” like nightmares that drew me back into the thick of things…until I addressed the demons and God healed me. A lil’ brick house, that was so tiiiiiiny I sometimes felt claustrophobic, and it was infested with roaches… (I shiver just thinking about it.) There is nothing worse than eating Raisin Bran cereal only to discover that the box said Kellogg’s Corn Flakes… Gross? (You have no idea!) Believe me “The Tent” was a very welcomed interruption to our lives. And the clean-up…**gagggggg** I can’t even tell you.
I shared a room with my super “BAD” little brother, which I mostly hated except for when Mom and “Pop” (my Stepdad) fought. We held each other until the yelling and bumping stopped. (I’m semi-old now and I still jump when I hear loud noises.) The door in the kitchen… led down to the back door and out to the garage & back yard. But if you continued to the right, you’d descend into a pregnant scary darkness, that would chill you to the bone. You’d be smart to hit that light first, up by the kitchen door. The previous owner constructed the space into a commercial grade Sports Bar complete with padded leather stools, a pool table, a refrigerator, and wine bottle racks that were anchored into a mirrored wall behind the bar. I’m sure some serious $%@# went on down there… it just felt earie. There was a bottle on the rack that had what looked like a woman’s breast in it. I kid you not! With a signed certificate that said, “I John SoNSo can do anything I want to anyone on my property.” WHY DIDN’T WE CALL THE POLICE?!!! We were young children, and we didn’t know what to do… so we called our friends over who confirmed the incredulous site and we all decided to get give the bottles a proper burial in the backyard.
For me the best part of the house was outside. Going out to play was just what we did. I mean, after doing homework and chores we’d just disappear until curfew (when the streetlights come on.) Raise your hand if you know somethin’ bout that! Under the pink honeysuckle bush, whose fragrance would fill our room as if calling me to herself. It’s where I’d go to get away from baby bruh. Nestled in the backyard where the fence met the back of the house, there was a space just Lil Anji sized that I’d crawl into and suck the honey from stems for hours. Other times kids filled our yard from all around to play tag, kickball, “Catch one, Catch all” and hide N seek, … but at dusk if you weren’t in the house or on your way home … “your ass was grass!” Lol, I can remember Ms. Kitty doing the rollcall: “Percy, Debra, Demetrius, Denise and Daryl !!!!!!!!!” and seeing the terror in their eyes for what was coming next.
7015 Lena was where I learned about loneliness, relationships, domestic violence and terror but it’s also where I have precious memories of dancing in the darkness (me and all my siblings) to the strobe-lit stereo speakers playing 70’s soul music. It used to cheer up Momma, when she was depressed, which was often… she’d have a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other. Even in the dark you could see her blinking, blinking, blinking away tears. We were “house-poor” latch-key kids who often created things to do for entertainment like “beat boxing” (before it was popular) or play-fighting “in SLO-MO,” we’d play cards and board games or roller-skated to music in the garage. Growing older we’d hang out in the front yard under the big tree (it’s gone now) or on the side lawn until 3am, it was safe to leave your front doors unlocked. It was cool as long as Momma knew where we were. She was super strict, and life was hard sometimes but she, a single parent did something I never could do … have the same home phone number (383-0465) the entire time we were there. Remember the old landline phone in the hall with the circular dial? Ahhh now that was stability. Oh well it was the best of times, and it was also occasionally… the worst of times.
People say, “It’s not good to dwell on the past.” But I say, do your own visit to the past… don’t get stuck there. Otherwise, how will you know where you’re going if you don’t know where you’ve come from. Certainly, who you were then has had an impact on the you of today. Visiting your “inner child” and writing down your own story is not only therapeutic but seeing things with mature eyes may catch something missed or change your entire prospective on things that have you stuck and unable to move forward. And dealing with old issues today, sets you up for a better, happier tomorrow. Don’t put if off any longer. And if you need some help…. as always, I got you. CLICK HERE.