The park between his house and church and her grandmother’s house was a long green oasis in this part of Baltimore city. In the middle of it was a stream, called a “run” and the name of it was “Herring”. Perhaps back in the day there were herring “running” in the stream but by the 60’s and 70’s there were none to be found.
He spent a lot of his childhood in Herring Run park, pretending to be a soldier or a ninja or a great baseball player for the Boys Club. It was baseball that was his claim to fame when he was younger. Being a head taller than most of his peers, long-legged and strong he was a pretty good pitcher, could hit a home run now and then and was looked up to by most of his teammates. The league was a big deal in this area, with a parade to start the season, fund raising with chocolate Easter eggs by Mary Sue. His 3 brothers had all played in the league and he didn’t disappoint to make them proud, especially the opening day on a brand new field when he hit the first home run.
The park was where he would take a five iron and a couple balls. With a pop song in his head he would hit a ball as far as he could, walk to find it, hit it again, and then hit it back the same way he came. All the while being very pensive and humming the song rolling over and over in his head. “Sign, sign, everywhere a sign. Blockin’ out the scenery, breakin’ my mind. Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign? ”
Thinking was comforting to him, mostly about girls, sometimes baseball and school and the future.
It was his sanctuary.
When they started to get close to each other, it wasn’t to be boyfriend and girlfriend. They were both part of a youth group at church. They would talk about the stories they read in the Bible and books about people of faith. They had both made the commitment to be Christians so talking about their faith was their common ground. It was part of the wonder of each of their lives.
She lived far enough away from their church, located on the park, that her parents would drive her to down and drop her off for the weekend. After the Friday night meetings she’d walk to her grandmother’s and stay till Sunday. Her grandmother lived on the opposite side of Herring Run, among in the neighborhoods of row homes.
After meetings he would walk with her to her grandmother’s. She was usually barefoot, even in winter, and known for for it. Her grandmother would convince her to put her Docksiders on for church, but they came off quickly as soon as she could.
When they walked through the park, taking the long way back to her grandmothers, sometimes they would go to a specific hill not far from the church and lay in the grass and talk. Long hours they would be there. Eventually at these moments she would lay her head on his shoulder and put her hand on his chest, every now and then swatting at mosquitoes and bugs intruding on their space.
He started to lift weights to impress her with his muscles, knowing she would touch his chest and arms. He was so in love with her, but enjoyed the fact the the physical hadn’t gotten in the way – they were two young people that just liked being together.
Eventually when it got very late, he would walk with her to her grandmothers, say good-night and float home to his house. Sometimes it would be very early in the morning, 1 or 2 am. He’d come in the door to his parents house, his mother at the top of the steps in the dark, whispering – “Howard?”
“yes Mom”
“where have you been?”
“with Carole”
“are you being careful?”
*a smile* “yes, Mom”.
“Try to get home earlier next time, Good-night, I love you”
“ok, I’ll try, Good-night, I love you, too”
His mother and Carole’s grandmother had conspired when they were very young to match them up when they were older. She loved Carole and was thrilled that they had become such close friends.
Once on the walk back to her grandmother’s, she stepped on a broken bottle hidden in the grass, cutting her bare heel. She could barely walk so he picked her up and carried her the rest of the way home. When they were close he could smell her shampoo, some kind of bubblegum fragrance. It was her fragrance no matter where it came from. Whenever he smelled it anywhere even years later, it always took him back to those nights in the park.
It wasn’t until many weeks of this routine of a long walk and laying on the hill talking, that one night she stood up, took him by the hand, they walked a little further down the hill from the street lights. She turned to him and they held each other and kissed for the first time.
His sanctuary had become a magical place, the scene of a love story and the one true love of his life. So few people ever experience that magic and he would never be the same and no one would ever be able to take her place.