I was very young when my family moved from Buffalo, NY to Rocky Mount. We are originally from the south, so it was a lot like going home… I was very young and in the second grade. There is so much I cannot remember about the move and the new place we lived, but the things I do remember left a big impression.
I could tell you about going with my dad to City Lake to go catfishing, or about eating pizza at Mama Jeans and all the jokes my dad would make up about that restaurant (“she has a brother named Blue Jeans” comes to mind). I could tell you about listening to WEED radio and losing reception every time we drove by the building. I could tell you about playing with my friends in Ms. Paradise’s second grade class at Benvenue or about going to Englewood UMC. Things like that are still somewhat fresh in my mind even though more than 3 decades have passed. Yikes.
No, my fondest memories about Rocky Mount involve mounds of dirt, 8 tracks, and a big yellow CJ-5.
We lived in a house on Homestead Rd. in a subdivision that was still being built up. There was a cul de sac right behind us that was filled with giant mounds of dirt, ready for construction crews to come in and shift and flatten. It was the perfect playground for this eight year old girl and her neighborhood friends. We would ride our bikes like they were rocketships hurtling us through space. We would play war, jumping in and out of the fox holes and trenches. We would take our Star Wars figures and pretend we were on Tattooine (and if you happen to find some storm troopers buried in your yard, I would appreciate those back… they are back in style!). We even shot off rockets with our dad, all of us kids running like mad to catch the capsule when it returned to the ground by parachute.
Today I am sharing over at Rise, a blog for the city of Rocky Mount. Follow me to find the rest of the story at Rocky Mount Stories.