In 1957, when I was ten years old, Disneyland opened to the public. Living in Southern California at the time, every kid on my street couldn't wait for the opportunity to ride in the jungle boat in Adventureland, drive the Autotopia cars in Tomorrowland, and sit in the stagecoach exploring Frontierland. Two of my neighborhood friends were among the first to have these experiences. Their father worked at Technicolor and the first days of Disneyland were reserved for families of those who worked in the movie industry. They returned from their privileged visit to the Magic Kingdom with home movies to show all the envious kids in the neighborhood.
Shortly after that time, my front yard was transformed into something much better. Actually it was my entire neighborhood block. We had Sewerland. I know it doesn't sound exciting, or even something to praise, but Sewerland was the best thing to happen to 10 year old kids. Our little post war housing tract was finally getting a sewer system and that meant the entire street would get dug up. Bulldozers arrived one morning and transformed quiet little Bonner Avenue into a virtual playground. A deep trench was cut right down the center of the street. Off of it were smaller trenches like arrow shaped airplane wings connecting each house to the main trench. It resembled the design of a peace sign. Like the main trench, the smaller side trenches were surrounded by large piles of dirt that would remain until the sewer work was complete and the holes could be filled in with the dirt that had been removed. What a playground this became! The work crews responsible for all this digging were doing about 8 parallel streets. That meant that my street would remain free of traffic and impassable until all the sewer work was complete. 10 year-old kids and large dirt piles is like Nirvana. Until those crews came back and cemented the sewer system in place, we had the run of the area.
"What do you wanna play? someone would ask. "Let's play war," was always the reply.
To kids born and growing up in the post WWII years, the big war was always the standard. We were emerged in all manner of movies, toys, holidays, and history books all centered on communicating what had occurred in the years right before we were born. World War II was a "good war." The enemies were clear, what was right and wrong was even clearer. We saw the parades and heard the military marches. So much of what we considered entertainment, whether it be music, art, popular culture, or movies all had war-related themes. Our play at war was given a realism booster shot with the addition of those trenches on our street. We'd climb in and out of them. Throw hand grenades (rocks) out of them and into them. How many times was I shot or killed on a large pile of sandy clay, falling into the trench below. Each of us carried our latest Christmas present, a Mattel Burp Gun, the automatic hand held toy gun that fired off multiple rounds. Actually, no projectile was fired, just multiple sounds. We'd run and use the dirt piles for cover. And, at the end of the day, we looked like we'd certainly been in a few skirmishes.
When the work crews returned and the sewer lines were completed, Bonner Avenue came back to its old self. Play resumed in the form of street games like Red Light Green Light. We played baseball using a tennis ball, and touch football. In time, the sewer system came to be highly valued. No more sunken cesspools. But no more Sewerland.
Postscript: Ten years after playing all day in Sewerland, the U.S became involved in South Vietnam. Two of my neighborhood friends were in the military, one in Korea, the other in Germany. The others were all 4-F ( undraftable) I was the only one who filed Conscientious Objector status. There were no moral issues in Sewerland. The real world was much more complex.
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