Bird Sanctuary Notoriety

      The school bell rang and after saying goodbye to my fourth grade teacher and classmates, I rushed outof Club Boulevard School and headed home two blocks away. I came to the crosswalk and jumped in place until the six grade safety patrol cleared me to cross Glendale Avenue. It only occurs to me now how fortunate I was to be able to walk back and forth home with only classmates needed for safety patrols.
      It was spring and the trees along Club Boulevard were budding out and fresh grass lined the yard at the first house.  I carefully stayed within the lines of the sidewalk in order to keep my grandmother's back from breaking while I rushed toward home. Up ahead the bushes and stone stanchions marked the entrance to the bird sanctuary. I hesitated and walked around the budding bushes looking for any scampering squirrels and fluttering sparrows and robins. After I completed the circle around and confirmed there were no intruders, I rushed on my way home, because I knew Mom would be concerned if I were late.
      I hurried to the intersection with Acadia Street, where I lived, and turned left. Trying to be extra careful not to fall into Ellerbe Creek, I sat down on the concrete tunnel taking Ellerbe Creek under Club Boulevard and took off my shoes. I slid my legs through the steel protection rail and imagined the giant minnows, crayfish, adn snakes cutting and swimming below in the creek. As I sat planning my afternoon activities, a touch came to my shoulder, "I am Jim Sharpe, a staff photographer for the Herald and I have been watching you enjoy spring in the bird sanctuary for the past few minutes. Could I get you to let me go back through and photograph your steps so far?"  It only occurs to me now that children and parents would not accept this kind of perceived possible molestation now a days, but no fear existed back then.
       I jumped up and quickly agreed. We retracd and took pictures of the steps I had taken getting to the creek tunnel. I wqs so excited that I forgot all about Mom waiting for me. I suggested to the photographer that I wade in the creeek for pictures also. After that I approached the small tributary that used to run dow to the creek through the open grass area where we played ball. I went into the tqall bush overgrowth adn he came in to photgraph Fort Playground.
       Suddenly it occurred to both of us that I was late getting home. We sat down at the concrete picnic table and I took off my shoes again. I lived directly across the streetfrom this area so we walked down the gravel driveway that has now been eliminated so neighbors can be safe from the wrong crowds visiting. We walked up to the door and knockd with my shoes andsocks in hand. My mother opened the door, took one look at me, and put her hands on her hips and glared at me without saying one word.
      Mr. Sharpe snapped the picture and Mom realized the whole expeience was staged. Mr. Sharpe rushed up taking full responsibility for my being late home (thank goodness) and told her he would use the photos in a Sunday morning "Spring Issue".  The very next Sunday my pictures covered the front page of the family section and I was a forgiven hero. Everyone loved the attention I got--except my older brother--who could not understand why I was chosen over him. Though he was 12 years older than I, he still played in the creek most days.
     This is the type of community, neighborhood, and security the bird sanctuary area afforded everyone back tehn. Don't we all long for those old days of safety and security?