Once we had a garage sale and there was a little plastic toy dog we were selling for a dollar. A middle aged couple came over. The woman asked me how much it was, and I told her. She said to her husband, "She says she wants a quarter for it." I was only 10 so I didn't know how to deal with it, so they got a cheap plastic dog for a quarter.

A few weeks later I was taking a walk on my street when I saw the dog lying in the grass, covered in dirt.

Mike, the Holocaust survivor who lived across the street. His wife, Sheila, died of cancer before I was old enough to understand what cancer was. I attended his granddaughter's bat mitzvah when I was about 7 or 8, and didn't understand a lot about Judaism. I remember the party, when the girl's friends (who seemed very big and grown up to me, although they were only around 13) asked me if I wanted to come dance with them.
I also went to Mike's grandson's bar mitzvah. I was 11 then, and had just started studying for my bat mitzvah, so I knew more about the service. The only thing I remember about the party was that there was a game to see which of the kid's tables would be the first in the dessert line, and I helped my table win by stealing another kid's french fry.

Another thing I remember about Mike was that once, my parents and I went across the street to his house for dinner. We looked out on the street from the living room window. I saw my own front porch (which had a porch swing on it) and told my dad, "Hey, that house has a swing like ours." I must have been about 5 years old.

I once decided to take the bigger street home from school instead of the side streets feeling brave that day. Halfway through my epic journey, a car pulled up alongside me and the woman driver rolled down her driver side window. She called up to me.

I had learned enough about strangers to know better than to stop and listen to her, so I just kept walking on. She yelled out to tell me that I had dropped my sweatshirt. I looked back cautiously keeping one eye on her driver side door. On the sidewalk 20 feet away was the sweatshirt I had tied around my waist (because it was a cool thing to do back then). I thanked the lady and scrambled to pick it up.

There were these old-style street lamps on our street. One time, us kids were playing around it and suddenly it came crashing down into the middle of the street. We all dispersed and got the hell outta there cause none of us wanted to be blamed for it.

i lived on many streets, because i moved quite a lot, especially when i was younger.

there was one particular street i lived on for five years. it was before the days my parents got a divorce and it was before i was 10. that street was filled with huge houses with baseketball nets, nice cars and mowed lawns.

although i never had a basketball net, my next-door neighbour did. i remember days where i would come out with my sister and shoot endless hours of basketball. i'll help her practice as i got all of her rebounds and she'll shoot until she got every shot in. sometimes, my neighbour will come out and my sister would play basketball against each other, or with other boys around that neighbourhood. i would sit there and watch them compete in game after game until the moon comes out.

there were other days where my sister dragged us out to play baseball. we would pitch to her and she would swing it nice and far into our other neighbour's backyard.

but there will be other times i will take my bike that i've self-taught myself to ride on (by using my neighbour's driveway) and i'll ride it up and down the street with my own friends. we'll bike to the parks, to other people's houses, and to the plaza that's right beside us.

those times on that particular street is still my favourite street i've ever lived on until this day.

My childhood home had the garage situated behind the house. On the end of the street where you would turn in to access the garage grew, what I believe to be, a magnificent Conker (Horse-chestnut) tree. One year, we were given chestnuts to eat. Thinking that all types of chestnuts were edible by humans, I commenced collecting chestnuts that had fallen from that magnificent tree. I carried bags of Horse-chestnuts home and proudly showed off all my hard work to my family in gathering this food. Sadly, I was disappointed to find out that these were not the same chestnuts as I had previously eaten and that the ones I picked were indeed unsafe to eat. Although a bit disheartened at my own foolishness, I didn't let it get the best of me. I carved little faces into individual chestnuts, played games with them, and did what typical little kids did back in the old days; I let my imagination fly.

I used to always hang out with my neighbor when we were young, even though we didn't go to the same elementary school. One day we were on a hunt for a rock for her project. We went about 10 houses down the street and came to this beautiful garden with lots of good rocks for her project. Since the lady who lived there had lots of rocks, she surely could spare one for a young child's project. Although I would have just taken it and went on my way, my friend caught me by surprise by knocking on the lady's door and asking if she could take one! At such a young age, her integrity and respect for people's property is something I'll never forget.

When we were young, the older neighbourhood grade sixers had built a clubhouse made of old wood and cardboard alongside an intersection of fences. From afar and to the unobservant, it looked more like a makeshift for the homeless than a clubhouse. To them, it was the pinnacle of ownership.

One day, I was invited to the prestigious hangout by the older kids. The area is not one I would call secluded. On one side of the fenced-in area was a major road and on the other perpendicular side was an apartment complex. Conveniently in the fence leading to the latter was a hole small enough for those 12 and under to give the children easy access to the kids on the other side as well as the playground. Outside of the clubhouse, there were a number of kids sitting in a circle passing around stuff. It looked to be the latest purchases from Scholastics. One of the older kids offered me a book, but I hesitantly declined.

Back home, I told my dad of the little adventure and in return I received a lecture about gangs and drugs.

20 years later, there isn't a single clue left in the area that would hint at a hangout ever being present there. The baby trees that held up the Maytag roof of the clubhouse are now not so baby anymore, and the hole in the fence has long been closed up with vegetation creeping through the gaps, securing the portal.

One afternoon on my way home from school in grade 2, I was walking up Yellow Birchway when I heard shouting coming from #20. It was a ladies voice coming from the garage. Being the ever cautious 7 year old, I crept up the driveway to check out the commotion. The garage door was open ajar and I could see a woman peering through it.

She told me to call the fire department because the garage door was jammed and she was stuck inside. I quickly ran the next 27 numbers to my front door and out of breath, repeated exactly what the woman had told me to my mother.

My mom dialed the number, spoke on the phone for a bit and then hung up. She told me that the fire dept had received a call about the stuck garage earlier and were already on their way. I was a little disappointed that day, because I thought I was going to be a hero.

When I was young, I was one of those kids that was really anxious to start school. My junior kindergarten teacher was supposed to come and have a meet and greet with my dad (my mom was in the hospital at that time with my brother). Anyway, I stared out the window in the living room the whole day waiting for her to come. I didn't know how she looked and so I saw everybody who walked or drove past my house as my potential teacher. Eventually, she comes in, talks and leaves. I don't remember what she talked about, being that I was a child and didn't understand adult-speak at that point. Before she left though, she gave me a red apple. I thought she was the evil witch from Snow White. (The teacher was old and retired like two or three years after I went to her class.)

On the street where I lived when I was very little we had a small house with hardwood floors. I remember watching the blue light from the TV bounce and shine off of that floor. I can remember sitting in my mom's bed when she was pregnant with my sister. There was a tree out back that had huge white flowers that looked like snowballs. The neighboor would occasionaly pick one for me. The house across the street would go all out for Halloween and I recall being quite scared to go over there. It was a good place at a good time before things would grow too big and fall apart.

On the street where I lived, or in the building where I lived, almost all the families were Jewish. We were the only Christian family, and definitely the only Chinese family. It was no fun because those Jewish kids were snobby and stuck-up. The only kids we ever played with were our neighbors, two little American boys.

They were such a nice family! Every holiday they would host parties and invite us to them even though were were much too old for these parties. We had Halloween parties, Easter parties, Valentine's day parties, St. Patrick's day parties, all types of parties!

Those were the good old days...

Back in grade 1 my mom would pick me up for lunch, but she would always be late. I would get embarassed waiting at the school drop off spot for such a long time, so I would slowly inch down the road to the end of the block. I had hoped if I was closer to the end of the block, my mom would find me faster and would not see anyone from the school staring at me. One time the postman caught me and brought me back to school so that I could be safe.

On the street where I lived I once saw this pregnant woman all dressed in white with curly brown hair walking slowly and watching everything with freaky attention, I was like 10 years old, I was totally convinced she was ghost.