Washington DC....A Nanny named America and a 9 year old who loved matches

                                                                                                                                                               OK, where do I start...as previously discussed...upon our move to Chevy Chase...my parents hired a nanny and her husband. My dad was always away and my mom was involved with lots of other projects so the parenting was left up to America (the nanny) and her husband George. They did not live with us (thank God) but they did come to work every day, six days a week (unless my mother would give her a day off, which was rare). George would arrive about 5:30 in the morning and drop America off...he then would proceed to his work....he was a handyman and grounds keeper to families all over the greater DC area. It was America's job to get me up and get me ready for school. Getting dressed wasn't a problem because I wore a school uniform. I attended a religious private grade school right on the traffic circle where Connecticut Ave meets the border of DC right at the Chevy Chase circle fountain. A big, black car (limousine) would drive down our block picking up kids that all went to this same school. No yellow school bus for me and at 9 years old, I wondered about that. America would make breakfast for me and give me a packed lunch because I didn't like the school food. I ate lots of PBnJ's back then and still love them today. If I was special and a "good boy", America would fry up some chicken and send that with me for my lunch....of course it would also be my supper when I got home. The same big, black car would bring us home in the afternoon and America would be waiting by the curb to gather me in and make sure I didn't run off to play. She had a strict set of rules for me to follow because I wasn't a very disciplined kid and was subject to temper tantrums. Her responsibility was to make sure I did my homework and chores and if I completed all to her satisfaction....I could go out and play until supper time....you know, it's funny but I don't remember many meals with my parents.  I couldn't wait until 7pm, because that's when George would come and pick America up and get her out of my life..at least for a few hours!!

At 9 years old, I played like regular kids played....I played ball in the street, we threw a football around, I rode my bike but only within a certain perimeter of our house, we played wall ball and hand ball and stick ball and lots of other outside activities.....my memories were always good except for having a warden always looking over my shoulder. OH YEAH, DID I MENTION THAT I ALSO LOVED TO PLAY WITH MATCHES!! This is where it gets fun....my parents knew I liked to play with fire so it was America's responsibility to hide all the matches so that I couldn't find any....that was a tough job for her because both my parents smoked like chimney's back then and there were matches everywhere!! Anyway, I loved to burn stuff...really don't know why but fire fascinated me....I would take my money that I got from an allowance or money I earned doing chores and buy toys that I could burn up....mostly model cars and truck and plastic soldiers. I think my love for fire was the reason that America always hovered over me because I think she was afraid that I would burn the house down....and in retrospect, she was probably right.

I remember two incidents vividly that have to do with me and matches that got me into a bit of trouble. The first one is a day when George (our yard keeper) was raking leaves...he would go around the yard raking these leaves and making big piles of them...when he was done raking...he would come back and bag them up and haul them off. I had a big cardboard box that I wanted to set on fire in our drive way. We had alleys so all of our driveways were in the back yard and really hidden from view. I got this bright idea that I would put this box on a pile of leaves and burn both. I decided to do this in the front yard because I think I wanted attention..lucky for me I did. I put the cardboard box on top of the pile of leaves and lit it. I really wasn't expecting it to become a big fire so when it started to spread out further than I was comfortable with, I went up and kicked the box, thinking that I would remove it from the pile of leaves and the fire would go down. When I kicked the box, my foot went through it and now the burning box was stuck to my leg. I had long pants on and my pants were starting to burn...I started screaming and lucky for me, our neighbor from across the street was watering his yard and saw what was happening....he had me run towards him and he was able to put me out with his garden hose. I'll never forget the look on George's face as he ran to also help me. If a black man could ever turn white with fear....it was on that day. Needless to say....I got into all kinds of trouble and I remember America blaming George for the whole incident due to the fact that he wasn't watching me. In my mind I received no blame because it was George's fault....off the hook again. That's the way I thought!!

The next incident had more consequences attached to it. The house behind ours was bordered by a huge hedge...I decided that I would take my plastic army guys and some plastic tanks and jeeps out to the hedge and play. I built hills and valleys out of sticks and twigs and leaves (you know where this is going) and at some point, I felt the battle needed some realism so I lit the leaves and twigs on fire. It was dryer than I expected and yes, the hedge caught on fire....fortunately for me...America was watching me out our kitchen window and when she saw the hedge go up in flames, she called the fire department...which was right down the street on Connecticut Ave. They came, put the fire out but by then, most of the hedge was gone....yes, I was punished and my parents had to pay for a new hedge that was planted. It wouldn't be the last time my parents paid for my misdoings!!

Well, that's the story of America, me and matches. I grew out of the firebug stage about the time we moved to Wilmington Delaware (except for one more incident that I will mention when I get to the Wilmington section).
Thanks for taking the time to read this.....see you next time as I travel through time and space remembering my childhood!!