I grew up on Green Valley Drive -- between a farm with a hundred cackling hens (and one loudly braying donkey) and the wooded streams of the Lawrence estate. My friends and I knew, in that vague way of children, that there was a mansion somewhere in that enchanted forest, but we never dreamed one could get there on foot (as opposed to pumpkin carriage or magic carpet). For years, we caught salamanders, followed the creek to a winding dirt road, and threw ourselves on the ground every time a plane flew overhead (as we screamed, "Patrol plane!" sure that it was on a mission against child trespassers).
One summer day, we walked farther than usual. Thrashing through a tangle of mountain laurel, we burst into a clearing – stunned by this sight:
Was it this day or another that Shelley and I went to the front door and asked for a drink of water (to be sent to the side door, which we peered through eagerly)? They sent the dogs on us as soon as we left.
The woman who works at Hartwood what's a classmate of Flip and Anthony's. I called her once and we had a long conversation. She filled me in on the fascinating history of the Lawrence family. It would be a great place for a reunion...
I walk there every time my travels take me over the Pennsylvania Turnpike. It's still such a reflex to hit the groundand yell, "Patrol plane!"Every time a plane flies overhead. I don't even have to say it; my husband says it for me.
I remember carrying Anthony through the muck after he lost his shoe (in my memory it's a cowboy boot) we took a shortcut through the muck of the field that connects Hodil's to Lawrence's.
My MMC initiation test included a complex essay question that went something like this: You are in the barn by DeBaldo's. Someone comes in. You need to run out quickly, but there is a bucket in the doorway. What do you do?
Nancy
Yes, Nancy, you had that essay question because that actually happened to me and Trish (and maybe Ellen was there). As I recall, Trish and I just hid until the two men who came in to that old barn left. They never knew we were there. Gee, I must have been the only one who never made it to the Lawrences' stables. What a wimp. Why were we wandering down by DeBaldo's when everyone else was heading off to the estate?
ReplyDeleteThere was another direction to travel, too...that was up over the hill across Harts Run (following the gas line). We were surprised when it led us toward St. Mary's. At the bottom of the hill, as I recall, was a grove and campfires. I seem to think there were motorcyclists there, but I can't imagine that if we had seen real people--particularly wild motorcyclists--that we would have shown our faces. Was that the trip on which Meagan picked up that terrible case of poison ivy?
-Wendy
These new points from Wendy remind me of two or three things. David Seidel and Bill Little will recall "Miss Torch Night" on the ridge between Harts Run Road and St. Mary's. I think it was more or less the last summer night before David went off to Lehigh to college. We camped out, built a fire, stripped naked and streaked along the ridge carrying torches made of rags soaked in gasoline from the lawnmower supplies that were in all our garages.
ReplyDeletePoison ivy makes terrible toilet paper when one is without the more conventional kind on the way back from the "forts" on top on the hill in Lawrence's where the shale ledges and "whispering pines" were.
Wendy once let me borrow her "Tommy" album, which was about the coolest thing that an older person had ever done for me...
-John Chesley
I have no idea what John is referring to by "Miss Torch Night". That's my story and I'm sticking to it. :)
ReplyDeleteI do however remember pouring gasoline down the end of a downspout that we brought up onto the hill with us. The bottom of the spout was placed into a camp fire. It made the greatest sound as fire shot out the top!!
Bill Little
have the memory of the "St. Mary's motorcycle gang" too. Perhaps it is like my memory of Miss Torch (and comes from hearing, not seeing). I remember drinking water from some trickling source in the hills between Green Valley and St. Mary's.
ReplyDeleteI remember a long day when we decided to follow the "Alaska pipeline" (pronounced Pippy lin ee) in the swath cut between trees on the hills between us and DeBaldo's. Were we thinking we could get to Alaska? One hill led to another and we finally came out in Saxonburg Blvd. (near the gatehouse to the Lawrence Estate, which I saw was for rent recently... and was sorely tempted...).
There was also Schaeffer's -- on the hill beyond Hodil's. We went up there with our Harriet the Spy notebooks and were sure we found evidence of a murder. When I told my husband that story while we were driving by (after our PA turnpike break walk at Hartwood), Chuck and I drove up that long driveway. Here, we were in our 50s, still ignoring the NO Trespassing signs plastered everywhere. The long driveway was a very rocky, and I -- at the wheel -- was feeling the loss of daring that has crept in with age. Worst of all, there was no place to turn around but right in front of the house atop the hill. There is now a huge mansion up there.
Meagan, were you there the day we decided to hitchhike and got picked up by a priest? What a disappointment (and, perhaps, protection).
Nancy