1957 TO 1963:  THE “PROJECTS” YEARS

I wish I could remember 1957, but I was just too young.  Like my future classmates, I was too busy messing diapers, crying, and taking care of my own, small world.  The earliest memory I can recall is holding up three fingers to announce my age, but I cannot remember to whom I made that announcement.  I probably repeated the gesture more than just a few times, and, since I could not count when I was three, I might even have had the number wrong.  One thing’s for sure; it happened in the Projects.  The Projects, for those who do not know, refers to low-priced, government housing for low-income people, such as a single woman with four children like my mom.

Phyllis, Jean, and Stan cooling off in the Projects.

In the Projects, I remember we had a babysitter, and, for some reason, I believe she was 29 years old, which made her about the same age as my mother.  It is a funny contrast to see how such varied lives end up in the same place.  I remember names like Sophie, Rita and Apodaca, but all those people would be lost to our lives once we moved to East Denver in 1963.  We wandered around the Projects with little fear for our safety.  It was a close-knit community with many eyes peeking out windows.  We also had a playground, and lots of other kids to play with.  Our world was pretty much defined by the square block we lived on, and even a trip to school or church seemed like a big deal.

In my mind, there are many sketchy, unimportant memories of that period, but they are not held together in any unified string.  I do, however, remember being happy.  I remember always having food to eat, always having a warm, dry place to sleep, and I always remember having clothes to wear.  My mother would probably love this, but I actually remember standing in front of our residence as she arrived home from work and thinking to myself how lucky I was to have such a pretty mom.  Yeah, it was poor people housing, and we sure fit the category, but I do not remember anything about racial tension or even knowing that the whole world was not as integrated as the projects.  Heck, I didn’t even know we were poor.  Maybe they hid it from me, or maybe I just want to believe in “The Good Old Days”, but I think it is nice that I remember those times as people living together and getting along most of the time. 

Other spotty memories include Arlan’s Department Store near 17th and Sheridan, where the Lake Shore Drive-In Movie Theatre also stood.  I remember playing on the playgrounds, sleds in the snow, and playing dodge ball in the tennis courts.  When I was five, I used to walk myself to kindergarten up to Colfax Avenue and over to the light that let me cross the street to Cheltenham Elementary.  I remember the red and yellow buses, the smell of diesel, and the naive joy for life that we only have when we are young.  In fact, just the right scent of diesel wafting past my nose still takes me back.  All I wanted back then was to grow up handsome and live a long, long life.