Places I Think I Remember.

Driving around the streets of Salt Lake City, I’m constantly hit with the notion that there are places I’d been as a boy, but don’t really know for sure. The memories aren’t vivid or necessarily meaningful, but it’s interesting which details stick with a little kid.

On 700 East at around 1700 South? I think Dad had a friend named Ron Ewell who lived on one of the side streets. This particular street conjures up memories of rose bushes and rusty chain link fences. I don’t remember much other than that except Dad took us there the day our dog Yogi was killed by a car on Indiana Avenue. I thinkn Mom and Frank wanted us kids out of the house so they could perform the burial. Mark, David and I played Kick the Can in the road with Ron’s boys. I don’t think I even knew their names.

300 East and 800 South? Mom and Frank had some friends named George and Midge. They had a teeny house with gnomes and plastic turtles peeking out from the petunia beds. Their living room was mint green and there was a Jesus figurine on their black and white television. I think.

Highland Drive and Crystal (maybe Parkway) Avenue? Grandma Chase had a walkout basement apartment. I remember watching “Gentle Ben” and Disney’s “Wide World of Color” on her console TV. Her ceilings were quite low and gave me the ability to pick my brother Rusty up by the ears and knock his head on the ceiling with a gentle “bonk.” We’d also tromp around the living room—his feet on top of mine—as we stomped around like conjoined giants. Before Grandma moved there, it seems she lived in a ‘50s rambler on a winding road at about 4500 South and 900 East. It’s pretty foggy, but I remember Sesame Street babbling in the background.

At 900 South and about 300 East? Mom and Frank had some friends with the best tree house ever filled with curtains, furniture and a colony of Box Elder bugs. We spent the night there with a bunch of other kids one weekend. I think our parents had all made the trek to Wendover. I don’t know who was put in charge of us, just that there was a mass of wall-to-wall sleeping bags on the floor.

2300 East and Wasatch Drive? Somewhere around the area where the Old Mill sits, I seem to remember the house where Dad wooed (and later married Raelene). Was there a big yard and gravel driveway? And ducks? I think so. Maybe not. I was only five.

2nd Avenue and “C” Street? On the corner sits a big old house that I recall being my Great Grandma Aggie’s nursing home. She shared a room with a couple of other residents, but the entry hall was strewn with crying, drooling, forgotten old people. It’s since been turned into a single-family home. I wonder if the new owners knew its sad history.

For some people a certain smell can trigger a memory—good or bad; for others it’s a certain piece of music that does the trick. For me, a rose bush by a rusty chain link fence does it every time.