Jason Rodriguez - The Moose in the Closet: Making Something From Not Much

I’m down in Southern Virginia this week for wineries, postcard shopping, and Bed & Breakfasts. I’m getting some work done as well, have the laptop with me and I’m taking in the brisk air, the smells of fall – the pumpkin cake and cider – and letting the creative juices flow.

I had a memory today and, since Robin’s taking a nap, I decided to turn it into a story. I got a whiff of chlorine today while driving from Williamsburg to Petersburg. Not sure where it came from, there are chemical plants along the way, but the instant I smelled the chlorine I was reminded of this pool we had back in Brooklyn. It wasn’t a large pool by any means. It was rectangular – probably around 12-feet long by 4-feet wide and around 2-and-a-half-feet deep. My family couldn’t afford a big pool but this was really all the pool we ever needed, anyway.

We used to load up this plastic container with chlorine tabs – it would bob around in the pool and, supposedly, clean the water. There wasn’t a filter on the pool so I’m still not sure how this processed worked but all I remember is how strong that water would be after the chlorine tablet dissolved. It would sting our eyes and burn our nostrils but we didn’t care, it was still the only pool on the block.

We treated it like any other pool. We found a way to dive into it – it was more of a head-first slide but it felt nice and smooth. Cannonballs didn’t hurt your tailbone too much, either, so we’d occasionally drop a cannonball in the pool. We actually played Marco Polo in that thing – it still amazes me. It was two-on-one and the polos got to stand and the marco had to stay on his knees. We played a baseball type game where the corners of the pool were the bases. I’m sketchy on how the ball was pitched and hit, I’m pretty sure we did it stoopball style off of the metal bar that went around the top of the pool. We even played that ring toss game except the people looking for the rings at the bottom of the pool were supposed to stay on their bellies and they were supposed to keep their eyes shut.

My parents treated it like a real pool as well. We had a skimmer to pull the bugs and leaves out of the pool. A pH kit to test the water levels. My parents would have the neighbors over and they’d all sit in the pool and have beers. Cleaning the pool was the best. We’d do it every couple of months – we’d start by siphoning the water out with several hoses. Once the water level was low enough we’d lift the pool 90-degrees and rest it on its side; spray the lining with the hose and scrub it down nice. Then we’d fill it back up – we’d sit around and watch the water level rise, anxiously waiting for it to get high enough so that we can take the first dive into the crisp and clean water.

It’s just funny – how kids learn to make the most out of what they have. Is there really any basketball hoop better than a metal garbage can? We can adjust the height of the garbage pail so that we can dunk on it and write the score along the side of the can in chalk. Kids didn’t need tall rims, a net, and a painted court – we just needed something we can throw a ball into, easily, that made a cool sound when we scored.

With a rock you can scratch out a hopscotch court and then used the same rock as your tossing stone. And, yes, the boys played hopscotch mainly so we could beat the girls as a substitute for kissing. If we found a piece of plywood we’d turn it into a skateboard ramp by just resting it on top of a curb. It appeared to give us a bit of lift and provided some fun before the inevitable break that caused someone to take a face-first digger on the sidewalk.

I think the happiest days where those when we found broken or discarded city property. Traffic cones where great for slalom biking or skating; payphones were great for breaking. Every throw a payphone off of a roof? It’s like the Juggernaut vs. Blob argument except the Juggernaut fucking explodes.

Stop signs – oh God I loved stop signs. Someone crashes into a stop sign and knocks the pole clear off and you have a great room decoration and a new grind pole for your skateboard.

I remember one time my friend David and I found a discarded LP deck. A real piece of shit, it hardly worked. We brought it into the house and spent the whole day using it to scratch my old records. “Pump Up the Volume” was no longer playable after that day.

Deserted cars – holy shit. If you were real lucky there were still some unbroken windows left behind – there’s nothing more satisfying than getting that front windshield to shatter. Looking back now, I wonder how many parked cars we smashed because some kid before us broke a window and slashed the tires – we just assumed it was deserted.

We were just all about making the most out of our environment. Good, cheap, wholesome fun.

Labels: brooklyn

Making Something From Not Much

Monday, November 20, 2006

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