Ednor Gardens

Kimble Rd Redux

In the last few years of World War Two, I was beginning my formal education at P.S. 51, Waverly Elementary School, Kindergarten (I love that word “a garden of children”) thru grade six. Every morning began with the “Lord’s Prayer” and the “Pledge of Allegiance” (sans “under God”). If you recall, my hometown, Baltimore, was the place where Madylyn Murray began her campaign to exclude religious observances in schools.
My musical career was enhanced by being a bugler in the school “drum and bugle corps.” Even though we had a piano at home and I was taking weekly lessons from Mr. Stern, who made house calls, I decided an accordion was what I really wanted.
Ever indulgent to my whims, mom took me to Freitags Music Store on Greenmount Ave. where I began taking lessons on a child-size instrument from “Tony.” That experiment lasted about two months, so the piano remained as my main instrument of torture.
Some of the kids learned to cycle on junior-size bikes. We could only afford one shot at it so I started with a ‘big” bike. There were no training wheels in those days. Dad fashioned pedal extenders with wooden blocks and bolts so my feet could reach the pedals. I learned by the “push and pray method.” A few years later when I was a veteran cycler, big brother, ever the inventor, bought one of the first battery operated portable radios and attached it to my handlebars. Was I cool, or what?
Although our television had been improved by the addition of a tele-rotor (remember them, a motor attached to the antenna on your roof turned the antenna to provide the best reception), radio was still a major source of entertainment in the evening. The squeaking door of “inner sanctum” and the stealth of Lamont Cranston (the “shadow”) were weekly “must hears.”
I was a skinny little kid so Mom provided a steady stream of snacks as we lay on the living room floor listening to the radio or watching TV. Staples were potato chips and marshmallows, which were preferred slightly stale. A real attempt at fattening me up was eagle brand sweetened condensed milk, which I spooned right from the can. I remember there being maybe 2 or 3 brands of potato chips but they were all the same style and flavor. Today there are umpteen brands, a zillion flavors and shapes, not to mention the multitude of ways to cook them, fried, baked, sautéed and fricasseed. MMMMM…Yummy.