The picture taken by an Arzaga, is of some of the kids I grew up with, from left, Lindsey and Eric Elms, me, and Rachel Wiler. Rachel had a brother, Aaron, who was a real ass hole, he was, looking back, just your average bully, but we didn't know that back then. We didn't hang out with them much. Well, Danielle and Lindsey were paired up, and they sometimes played with Rachel, where as Kristin and Eric hung out together, who every once in a great while Aaron would join in. Meanwhile I floated amungst the masses. Well, there were seven of us, but it was, from my perspective, the entire world.
Danielle and Eric probably in '89
Lindsey, Eric, and I lived there(on the street) all our lives. I don't remember the date or the year when Rachel and Aaron moved there, but I remember the event like it was yesterday, eventhough mom tells me I was too young to remember. K and D moved there when I was 5, making Danielle 4, Kristin 6, Rachel 7, Eric 8, Aaron 9, and Lindsey 10. As you can probably see from our ages Lindsey really bacame a mother/sister figure to us, or at least to me. Eric was "the boy"(Danielle likes to remind us of the fact that he was "so pussywipped"-sorry Eric). Aaron was bad, and represented all things evil, Danielle and Kristin were my equils, they were my sisters. Danielle and Kristin were best friends. I was, not to brag, probably the only reason they didn't tear eachother, and thier house, apart.
I used to feel bad for Lindsey and Eric, but they had thier own relationships with them. Kristin and Danielle were the daughters of a single mom, Helen, who had an on again off again with their father, Danny, Dani's namesake (she still does). He lived with them most of the time they lived on our street. Actually around the corner. She eventually kicked him out telling us he was too silly, that he was never serious. Later we found out it was because he was a drunk. Helen was cool because she remembered, most of the time, what it was like to be our age, all our parents did. She made games out of vacuuming, and took them shopping with her, told them gossip, let them put a trampaline in the house. She was pretty cool. Once the first one hit puberty that kinda died off I'm told. Now she likes to chain me into long conversations trying to get me to rat about Danielle's sex life. I think her paranoia overrode her levity. She was always paranoid about her kids doing something wrong. They were great kids, they really didn't deserve all that supervision, but not that we had a whole lot of input.
Our relationship with Helen didn't begin there, to my knowlage the first time we met her was when Lindsey was an infant. She worked for the P.O. and delivered mail to our street. She's always been rather talkative, she'll about her life to anyone who'll lend an ear, so she was a big hit with Lindsey and Eric's Mom Jan, who's the same way. She used to give Lindsey rides in her mail bag around the block. This is how it happened she met an elderly fellow, I think his name was Mr. Van Deeken, but from what I gather he was fairly sickly, didn't really have any family and Helen kind of watched after him. She visited him when eventually he went to the hospital and later died. In turn she inheireted his house, which was just around the corner from us. Thus begun an era. Thank you Mr. Van Deeken It was tiny, to bed one bath, about the total size of our living room. And itwas right on an open street, where as ours was on a dead end street with a canyon behind us. I'll go into the canyon later.
The Lindsey and Eric's parents were Jan and Steve. They bought (and expanded) a little house in a god forsaken corner of the country that wound up a few years later to be The gay community of San Diego. Steve was an archatect who liked to build and fix things for a hobby. They always had a million projects going at the same time. I'm not sure they're not straight out of Leave It To Beaver or something. I never really minded that we never got back what they barrowed. They were like family. In the living room, as do all the houses in the neighoborhood, they have high ceilings, and come Christmas they liked to take advantage of that fact, so they always managed to get a tree about a foot too tall. It didn't matter. It was the tradition. They still remind me of Leave It To Beaver. Only in a gay community and just a few hundred feet from a serial killer (Cunanan...he babysat a friend of mine).