Road Closed

Deb: We are all accustomed to seeing the “road closed” sign in the spring and summer! We spend the warmth months adjusting to detours for road construction and repair. It never bothers me because, I figure, what else are they going to do? The roads need to be fixed and in order to do so, they have to be closed. I do know it’s a little easier for me, as I am not a nine-to-fiver dealing with traffic delays and clock punching. I think in the grand scheme of every day complaints, road closures are the most frequently griped about inconvenience, next, of course, to the never-ending human obsession with the weather. Between construction delays and weather—I think we’ve got a better chance controlling the weather.

Today (Saturday) I saw a bevy of “road closed” signs throughout my neighbourhood. As I peered down the street while passing the sign to see what was being constructed or de-constructed, it was to my delight that the closure in question was for a street party. In fact it turns out that today is street party day for many streets in my hood. The road was filled not with burly guys in yellow neon vests, but with basketball nets and plastic pools. Each street seemed to have something different. There were food tables adorned with plastic tablecloths and BBQ’s lining the boulevard. There were happy kids with bony knees shrieking summer shrieks and catching balls. There were neighbours chatting and gossiping while keeping one eye on the shrieking kids. You could tell at a glance these parents were trained to tell a shriek of laughter from a shriek of pain, and ready to pounce if needed. The street was alive with games! Sidewalk chalk, hopscotch, and tag were the order of the day, with nary a video game in sight! Kids being kids and families making memories.

These “road closed” signs made my day! The whole street party thing took me back to a time when this kind of thing took place on a weekly basis in my life. My hood as a kid was alive with the sound of puck hitting stick and the call of “CAR!” as nets were scraped out of harm’s way. Any day in the summer was an excuse for a neighbour gathering or impromptu bbq. All were welcome! These are sweet memories for me. I remember when these instant bbq’s would instantaneously pop up and everyone would scramble to see what meat and salad fixings, beer and wine they had in the fridge and the booty would be shared. The men would start getting the charcoal ready and the ladies would start chopping and mixing. But it was all done as one big party with everyone pooling their resources for a day and night of fun. The kids would set buffet tables with plastic everythings! If someone was really well-stocked we would have classy paper napkins that came wrapped in bunches of 40, or paper towels if the pickings were slim. As the meal wound down, the guitars would come out and the singing would commence. Joined by crickets and bats overhead for the jamboree, the bug spray would come as the night fell. Around this time, the sunburn on your nose and your back would start to heat up. But you didn’t care. It was summer and the living was easy and shared. Good good times. I remember them well.


A few sweet memories of summer impromptu gatherings:

Barbara: Awww, Deb! Thanks sooooo much for the summer reminder (or, reminder of summer).

When I was kid living in a quaint suburban neighbourhood, we would take part in a huge neighbourhood bbq and party on our street. I remember it so vividly. There was always a parade for all the kids and we would dress up and ride our bikes (also dressed up) down the street. I would wind streamers through the spokes of my wheels—not very original, I know, but it made me feel like a million princess bucks. I know there must have been gallons of food and I’m sure it was delicious, but I don’t remember the food the way I remember the warm air and the conviviality and the new friendships that felt like old.

When Phil and I moved into our present-day neighbourhood, I used to fantasize about launching one of these very same “road closed” meets. I could see us bbq-ing and drinking and gossiping and eyeing our rambunctious kids. But … it never happened.

Oh well, memories are nice too. And maybe one day another intrepid neighbour will heed the call of the street and begin a new old tradition. That would be very sweet.