Memories of Davenport Hollow

Childhood Memories of Summertime in Davenport Hollow

Growing up in Davenport Hollow was, I thought, the coolest thing that could happen to a kid. In fact, when we would drive through other neighborhoods, I truly felt sorry for the kids who lived there. No place could be as great as our neighborhood. After all, who had so many cousins always ready to play handball in Grandmother’s yard, may-I and red-light in the road, blind man’s bluff and hide and seek in the basement, cowboys and Indians with Byrdie and Sidney, croquet behind Uncle Roswell’s, stilt walking and pogo stick bouncing with Betty (Uncle Roswell cheering us on), and even truth or consequences for the brave hearted. And there were the quieter times. Time to play Monopoly on the screened porch with Brad and time to draw and make things with Martie. We would sit in the trees in “apple town” to talk about our plans. Byrdie and the boys made the greatest little town out of dirt and sticks right outside our laundry room door. I thought it was a magical spot. Summer lunches were always in our yard or Aunt Jane and Uncle Roswell’s. Mother and I would carry our sandwiches down on trays. She often had a beer. Tomato sandwiches with Sidney and Betty on their front stoop was the best. Crow baby and a resident mocking bird often joined us. It was really special when the scarlet tanager came by. Our call for play was always “Ya wanna come over?”

One of my favorite spots was the little house Daddy built in our back yard. He could build and fix anything. I often had the very important and privileged job of being his tool holder. The little house even had cots in it. Betty and I spent a lot of time there. The chicken coop was there too. Thank goodness I was too little and escaped the duty of collecting the eggs. Byrdie and Lucy were the brave ones who did that. I just remember the slippery ground.

Unfortunately, I have no memories of Grandfather. I was two when he died. But Grandmother was always there. I loved wandering in her yard. She was usually working on her bushes. Our handball games were in the big yard by the maple tree and the apple tree. We hit the tennis ball with our fist and not a bat. It was sad though when Martie and I crashed, and I broke my arm. I believed we crashed because we tripped in the holes Brad and I dug while digging up onions for Grandmother. There were always chores to be done. We tried hard to stack bricks beside Sarah’s house, but just could not do it to Grandmother’s satisfaction.

Grandmother’s house was like no other. I loved going into the big octagonal room. Mostly I remember the oriental carpet bags and the wonderful rocks on the window sill. There was a little spot for the phone and a tight squeeze to an attic space. Grandmother told me the little brothers would escape up there to hide from their big brothers.

I only remember spending one night with Grandmother. She took me into the upstairs hall, turned off all the lights, and shined a light onto some little elephants on top of a bookcase. As she moved the light the elephants marched across the wall. That was magic. I have that little bookcase in my bedroom, or one just like it.

Another very important spot at Grandmother’s was the little house where her help, Sarah, lived. I only remember the one room. That may be all there was. I know there was no bathroom inside. I went there with Byrdie and Lucy and our cousins to watch the first and then only TV in the neighborhood. We would all sit on the floor in the dark. Sarah would sit behind spitting into her spittoon and telling us we had ants in our pants.

Grandmother’s bread was delivered by “the bread man” who would stop right outside her kitchen door and next to Sarah’s house. What fun it was to catch a ride. It was a thrill to ride all the way down the hill and home in a truck with an open door.

All summer the soles of my feet were black, and my shorts were green from grass stains. I felt totally free with no constraints on summer play and adventures. I know Mother and Daddy must have watched over me, but I never knew.

At the end of the day Mother could call everyone in with a loud Yooo Hooo.

Our neighbors who to me were always known as “but not our cousins” definitely played a big part in my childhood in Davenport Hollow.

The Laverges: Mother told me they were from Holland and Mr. Laverge did something very brave during the war. I was in awe and they were beautiful. I loved going into their house which was so different because Mr. McCullough was the architect. Mrs. Laverge even had a darkroom in the basement, and a wonderful room for the kids to play.

The Blackwells: Two families with lots of cute kids who were younger and probably thought we were wild and crazy. The most exciting place was Miss Ellen Ball’s house which was so big, but I did not get to go in. Dr. Ribble had his bee hives in her yard. There were also cacti growing there.

The Kings: Sue thrilled us. After all she was an Olympic skater. Lucy and Susan were smart and talented dog trainers. Honey was Susan’s totally tailless boxer, and Cootie was Lucy’s wonderful border collie type. Cootie was the star. Billy was into football. I even played in their back yard. Cracking my tooth on Frank McCullough’s head discouraged me from continuing that sport. And Bill was playful and sweet to us all. After Grandmother’s Sarah, Sue and Bill had the next TV in the neighborhood. I went there often to watch.

The Stevens: Go-Go brought us popsicles, and Betsy organized us to perform plays and write newspapers. Mason was little and got bopped on the head playing baseball. That was very scary.

The McCulloughs: Mac, Mother’s godson, usually ate a second dinner at our house and even turned on the hose on our porch during a teenage party. Mac, I think he was the one, dug a tunnel in the bank by the creek for us to climb through. Going through the culvert under Robin Road was probably the safer choice. Watching Frank and Mac flip kittens off their shed onto a blanket was enough to teach me to watch out for mischief.

The Wellfords: part of Davenport Hollow, maybe, but they taught me to beware also. Always full of mischief, Mackie lit a sparkler under Mother’s bed while she was taking a nap. I remember the singed bedspread which I’m sure Mother continued to use. I got my dog, Gretel, from the Wellfords and will be forever thankful. Peggy and I used to traipse through the poison ivy to play.