By Joan Bunting, July 5, 2012 — From the ages of eight to seventeen years old, I lived in a small street called Opal Street. It’s spelled o-p-a-l like the gem, but it was always pronounced O-pal Street.
In the summer during vacation lots of children from surrounding neighborhoods would come to Opal Street to play. During the morning through the early afternoon we played wall ball, three flies, step baseball, play fish, jacks, marbles, dead man’s block, cowboys and Indians, double Dutch, and we made our own scooters or the original skateboards. We’d get a wooden crate, some old roller skates, a hammer and nails and get to work.
Every afternoon everyone would disappear and show up again around five or six o’clock after we’d taken a bath and eaten our dinner. Then the circle games would begin. We played Down by the Green Apple Tree and Who Stole the Cookie from the Cookie Jar. Sometimes the water plug would be turned on as late as twelve and one o’clock at night. The adults would be sitting on the steps watching the young people play.
We call or consider those the good old days, but today are good days as well. I thank God for those wonderful times and memories. I also thank God that I can keep these memories to cherish.