Heathmoor Drive
In Columbus we rented a house on Heathmoor Drive from a female firefighter. I remember a blue beaded curtain in a doorway, a phone on the wall with one-button contact to 911 (I got in trouble twice by hitting this), a backyard with an electric pole in it that backed up to my best friend Missy's house. We buried her hermit crab under the fence that separated our yards.
This was the house where Matt and I wrote notes to welcome our new baby brother and set them in his crib for him to find when he came home from the hospital. In the basement, my dad built a balance beam for me, and Missy and I made doll houses out of cardboard boxes and constructed tiny rugs with glue and yarn. Matt and I turned the area under the stairs into a dressing room for our elaborate musical productions set to our Disney Channel cassette tape. Our big numbered was centered around the Talespin theme song.
We got our dog Max while we lived here—he was my Uncle Jerry's dog and for some reason Jerry couldn't keep him anymore. I think he was in law school and maybe his apartment wouldn't let him have a dog? Max became my dog and I adored him. The first night we had him I made him sleep on the bed with me, strangling him in a choke-hold hug on my pillow.
One 4th of July I decided it was important for me to be patriotic, so I took my yellow legal pad and wrote down
This was the house where Matt and I wrote notes to welcome our new baby brother and set them in his crib for him to find when he came home from the hospital. In the basement, my dad built a balance beam for me, and Missy and I made doll houses out of cardboard boxes and constructed tiny rugs with glue and yarn. Matt and I turned the area under the stairs into a dressing room for our elaborate musical productions set to our Disney Channel cassette tape. Our big numbered was centered around the Talespin theme song.
We got our dog Max while we lived here—he was my Uncle Jerry's dog and for some reason Jerry couldn't keep him anymore. I think he was in law school and maybe his apartment wouldn't let him have a dog? Max became my dog and I adored him. The first night we had him I made him sleep on the bed with me, strangling him in a choke-hold hug on my pillow.
One 4th of July I decided it was important for me to be patriotic, so I took my yellow legal pad and wrote down
- The Pledge of Allegiance
- The Star Spangled Banner
- God Bless America
Standing out in our driveway with one hand over my heart and the other holding my legal pad, I was reciting the pledge of allegiance when my mom opened the door and saw me. We both froze.
"It's okay, you can finish what you're doing," she said, recovering. She shut the door, I'm sure so she could laugh without me seeing.
I finished my patriotic recitations and decided to end with a song from The Little Mermaid for good measure. I liked the way my voice reverberated outside and fancied myself quite the singer.
Heathmoor Drive was also home to my Grandma Dodge, who wasn't really my grandma but who lived next door and was great fun for my brother and I. We'd go over to her house and play a card game we invented called "Steal the Pile." Her sheepdog Willy would get so excited to see visitors that he'd bang his tail against the wall so hard that it bled.
Grandma Dodge and my mom worked for weeks and weeks to sew matching American Girl clothes for my doll and me. I took it in stride as my due—why wouldn't these adults work this hard to make things for me?
Grandma Dodge's husband Mel, who was a bit scary mostly because he had lung cancer and used an oxygen machine, was on the board at the Columbus Zoo and sometimes got to bring home animals. I don't think this would fly nowadays, but back then he had a giant cage in his basement where sometimes there was a legit lion. Not even exaggerating. A lion. Photos lined the walls—Mel with a lion standing up to put his paws on Mel's shoulders. Mel with famous people visiting the zoo. Mel getting a commendation from the governor for some kind of wildlife preservation initiative. One year lion cubs came to visit and chased Willy around the backyard and scratched my brother. Now it seems amazing, but back then it just seemed like a reasonable thing to happen.
When Mel died, Missy and my brother and I were sitting outside right at the border of our yard and Grandma Dodge's (Grandma Dodge had much nicer, much thicker grass), watching the people come to pay there respects. Jack Hanna parked out on the street and waved to us as he walked in. I remember thinking, "Cool, that's Jack Hanna"—but our excitement was dampened with the knowledge that everyone around us was sad.
I don't remember much about moving away from Heathmoor Drive except for Missy giving me an empty photo album as a going-away present. On the inside she wrote a message not to forget her. I still have it—inside are pictures of us in our Halloween costumes. I look tiny, a little girl.