"Running Away" At Age Six

I am 62 years old and have lived my whole life in Columbus, Oho. For the first seven years I lived with my mom and dad, and eventually a total of three sisters, at 934 Weber Road, located on the city's north side. The family moved into a better neighborhood in 1958. Yesterday I traveled back to that Weber Road area to meet my sister, G.G., and together take a walk through very early nostalgia.

I have a pretty good memory for meaningless stuff. I remember little fragments and tidbits going back to my fairly early childhood. I can recollect the names of the neighborhood kids. Looking at the old house from the outside, I pointed out the individual windows, and recalled the corresponding rooms in some detail.

I remembered that one day I decided that I wanted to run away. I don't know what my motive was. I do not think I was angry over something, something like being denied an extra cookie. My guess is that I saw a hobo on some TV show, the life looked interesting, and I decided to make it my career path. For some reason my younger sister, Dottie, wanted to go with me.

Anyway, I informed my mother that I wanted to run away and she calmly asked me if I might need a lunch. I told her that yes, I could get hungry in my travels, and food might come in handy. So my mother took a couple of apples out of the refrigerator, two small bags of potato chips out of the cupboard, and made us some sandwiches. As per the style of a vagabond circa 1956, we wrapped the food in a handkerchief, and tied the handkerchief to the end of a stick, a stick that could be carried over a shoulder.

We exited the back door and began our excursion by meandering down the alley that ran near the property. We traveled about a hundred yards or so when off to the side we came across a couple of idle cement blocks, perfect height for a 3'4" person to sit restfully. My sister and I took comfort on the seating and after a moment or two of relaxation, decided it was time for lunch. As was my habit at the time, I quickly consumed the potato chips, ate the sandwich minus the crust, and threw the apple into a nearby trash can.

After lunch, Dottie and I continued to lounge on the concrete blocks for a while, but eventually we concluded that we had run away long enough and it was time to return home, so that is what we did, retracing the short route we had trekked some 45 minutes earlier.

When we stepped through the back door, our journey complete, my mother showed very little surprise in our somewhat abrupt return. In fact, it seemed almost as though she expected it.