As an adult, I think back on my childhood in weird ways. When I remember things, it isn't usually a sequential movie of what happened, my memories jump around and focus on the parts that were the most important to me. I also tend to remember things surrounding mental landmarks of my childhood, like what happened at this school, or memories from the beach, or things like that. I think that is how most people's memories work. Unless the person has a photographic memory or something, but that sort of thing is a lot less common than people want to believe. I always seem to hear about this guy or that guy having a photographic memory, but I don't buy it. If that guy can remember everything, then why did he forget to shower this morning?
One place that was a landmark of my childhood was The Spaghetti Bowl. There was a big deep storm drain that ran through our neighborhood and every time they put a road across it they would pour these huge cement slabs running down the three sides of the “bowl” between the road level and the big culvert pipes that ran underneath it at the base of the creek or bayou about 1000 feet below, as I recall. The Spaghetti Bowl was one of these bowls that sided up to a road that was never completed so it was pretty much deserted by adults. It was also the unofficial meeting place of every kid I knew.
Whenever two kids were going to fight, they didn't meet at the flag pole or on the playground, they met at The Spaghetti Bowl. When I was in the 7th grade, I saw two girls fight at The Spaghetti Bowl and they each tore open the other one's shirt. The fight ended when the meaner of the two, pulled the other girl's earrings straight down through her lobes. You can see why it would be a landmark just by that one event, right?
My friends and I used to ride our bikes over to The Spaghetti Bowl and try to jump them by racing diagonally down and back up in a big “U” that spanned all three sides. I also smoked a cigar out there one time, and was eaten alive by ants as a result.
When I was 14 we moved from Houston, Texas to Salt Lake City, Utah but my parents gave me permission to go back down to Houston over Christmas break and stay with my best friend Jason and his family. I rode a Greyhound bus all the way there and it was terrible. Sorry Greyhound, I just can't give you my seal of approval. On the bright side, you meet the most interesting people ever on the Greyhound bus.
I got to Texas prepared for balmy southern warmth but it was freezing. The very first night I was there, Houston received the rarest of gifts, a snow storm. When it snows in Houston pretty much everything shuts down. They close banks and schools city wide and urge people to stay indoors and update their wills. But for kids it is like a solar eclipse; something amazing. This snow was really cold and wet and mixed with a thick fog that was almost drizzle.
I thought that since I had spent the last six months in Utah and had seen snow a few times, I was the expert on it. Jason, his older brother Tony and I, all hopped on bikes and rode over to The Spaghetti Bowl. Tony had a ten speed and totally left us behind but it was fine. Jason and I were riding our bikes up onto people's lawns where the snow was thickest and trying to skid out, we weren't in any hurry.
When we got to The Spaghetti Bowl it was completely coated in ice and snow on all three sides. In the ditch at the bottom was the ever present bog of mud and water, but it was iced over too. Tony was already on the far side of The Spaghetti Bowl. He hollered across to us that he had already ridden it and it was super fun and fast and he had jumped higher than he had ever been able to before because ice and snow make for perfect bike jumping conditions. All of this sounded scientifically sound to me so I took my turn. Plus, I didn't want to admit that I had never ridden my bike in the snow before.
I placed my bike at an angle diagonal to the grade as usual and pushed off. My bike immediately slid out from under me and I slammed hard onto my side and started sliding down toward the water below, bike and all. Luckily, I was far enough up so that when I reached the bottom I slid into the culvert pipe inches away from the frozen mud bog. Did I mention that this was at like 7:00 AM? And that it was freezing cold and sort of raining? I could here Jason and Tony laughing, but you have to understand that this is like the salt of the earth, nicest family ever, and they have these huge loud laughs that are completely without guile. I was pretty embarrassed still and so I said that I had hurt my leg. It did sort of hurt but I was more just generally miserable.
Jason dropped his bike and started down the side toward me but slipped at once and landed on his back. He looked exactly like Yertle the Turtle as he was falling off of his, once great, turtle stack. Anyway, Jason was on his back and sort of flailing and clawing at the ground while he slid slowly down the side and out across the iced over bog until he was right about in the middle. Then, the ice cracked and down went Jason, up to his neck in the funk. I should point out that Jason was wearing every item of clothing he owned to keep warm.
Jason was up on his feet right away but couldn't get out because he was surrounded in ice. Now, Tony and I were the ones laughing. He saw that we were not going to be of any use to him and started stomping and thrashing through the ice like a T-Rex. His arms were curled in close because he was cold and he was really stomping... I know my memory isn't 100% right after all of these years, but that is how I remember it going and it was the funniest thing I have ever seen.
Tony came hopping down from a position directly above the culverts so if he slipped he wouldn't go into the water. We eventually pulled Jason and me and my bike up to the top after much slipping and complaining. Tony told us afterward that he rode around the outside of The Spaghetti Bowl to the opposite side and just wanted to see if we would be dumb enough to ride across it. We were, or at least, I was.
That was how I remember that happening. I bet Tony or Jason would have a whole different recollection. Jason would remember that his pants froze from all of the water and mud that he caked into them. They could stand up by themselves by the time we got home. Tony would remember something else completely. I think that's why eye witness accounts can vary so much.
And that's the story of The Spaghetti Bowl.
