Lawrence V

Consequences of a Construction Site Palace

Posted in Writings by Larry on February 16, 2009

When I was eight I gloriously declared the whole year my hell-week, because I enjoyed my first true life threatening experience. It was late winter on Long Island, 1988. The day was a gloom overcast but the air was cool and fresh, the air that seems electrified with sobering encouragement. Around the corner from my house was a beautiful dirt forest of sorts. A new house was being put up in the Fall but for some reason, probably the weather, they paused for the coldest of the New York winter months. 

My parents didn’t fool around when it came to unsupervised construction sites. Oh, they knew it was the second coming of Disney for an eight year old, only more dangerous because it was around the block. The thing is, they never took their eye off me long enough to take the ride. Eventually a day came when my grandparents visited. Both of which could have been loony-toon characters or some Jim Henson creations. Though, my grandma Thelma came more from the mind of Stephen King or George Lucas. I think she was related to Darth Vader. Maybe his sister, or distant cousin but related all the same. As bad as this might seem, the idea of my Grandma being Darth Vader’s sister excited me at that age. It would make me the jedi nephew. These thoughts only made sense to a child when hugs were forbidden with the woman, as was talking without being addressed first. According to my Darth Thelma childhood was a phase, one only had to make it through and you would be alright. My Grandfather was a different character altogether. He was the prisoner, handcuffed to the undying witch, but holding a smile to his face as if he didn’t mind going down with sinking ship. I could tell my parents agreed loosely with my conclusions on both of my Grandparents. We never said as much, but my father would smile as he watched my Grandpa bring a brilliant gift and spoiling me, while giving my Grandmother the stink eye. 

These two wonderfully abstract people were finally the break I had been waiting for in my attempts to excavate the construction site fortress. With my mother stretching herself thin to prepare for Darth Thelma, I snuck out the back screen door, over the fence and across the street before the door slammed home. Never having been there mattered not, because I had eyed the sand paradise for weeks every time I walked to my bus stop. 

I was standing facing the wondrous rippled cement foundation within minutes. Like a puppy sniffing out the far corners of a yard, I walked the perimeter of the towering concrete walls of a foundation. I remember briefly taking in the flying trapeze man, preparing to disembark and gain gasps from the crowd, when I scrapped it for the Dark Knight. I was Batman creeping the walls, curving left than right, preparing to pounce on the unsuspecting criminals below. 

The thing I guess I never noticed before planting my front foot and pouncing, was a rusty steel bar protruding out of the wall ankle high. Nor did I fully respect the consequences of a twelve foot drop for a pip-squeak third grader. 

It took two hours before my Father found me with a ankle the size of a pumpkin and a face that looked more like Two-Face than Batman. The good news; the rusty bar slowed my fall- the bad news; I fell on my face crushing some teeth and lips in the process. My Father wasn’t as mad as I feared. He handled me well like a good father should. I laid in my parents bed for a week as my mother nursed me back to health. I still remember it being one of the only times in my life I was allowed in that bed. Oh yea, and I got a hug from Darth Thelma, apparently even Dark Lords have hearts too- especially when they see how treacherous their grandson’s can look.

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