Gibson Street Flint Town
I remember living on Gibson St. In Flint Michigan. My friend at the time back then was Brian Orr and the Meteviers lived across the street. My dad worked at Buick and mom was home being Betty homemaker. My family was as normal as any other family. My sister was a baby at the time. Her name is Tarra. She is three years younger than me.
Thinking back on it, I was an oddball kid back then. My uncle "Tim Bloodworth" was always stopping by to see us and I was introduced to all the shit they could think of like slap boxing, using the middle finger and rock n roll that Mark, Paul and Tim would instill in me back then.
Mark Hays had long hair back then and was the same then as he is now. He was always an instigator and getting my ass going. I was being groomed to be a scrapper right from the beginning. All of this was before the dope scene. They were high school age back then. Everyone was mainly drinkers and smokers
Being born into a music family means just what it says. I come from a family of musicians. My grandfather played country music. He was a singer, song writer and guitarist along with his son Tim. My dad who was married into the family played guitar too. My earliest memory of seeing my grandfather and uncle playing music was on Television. I remember my mother saying grandpa is gonna be on tv. I don't recall what show it was but there they were and I wanted to be just like that. My mother and dad didn't have a lot of money back then. I remember my dad had this homade guitar and amp he put together. In the early 70s Grand Funk Railroad was king and always on the radio. I loved the song " I'm your Captain."
Around this time, Tim bought my first instrument. It wasn't a guitar like one might think but a set of kids drums. I am sure I drove my mother crazy beating on them drums but hey I wanted to be just like my uncle. He quit guitar and picked up on the drums for a time.
For the most part back then, the Meteviers was where everyone hung out. They were always into bullshit. I was in the yard watching Paul and one of his buddies working on a car. What came next was a shock. I hear the motor start winding up. I looked up and Paul is up on the car in the motor compartment area and the car takes off like a rocket. Paul jumps out while his homeboy is diving out of the way and the car runs over one of their legs. It was hard to say which one because all I could see was arms and legs scrambling. It was crazy. The car is flying down the street with nobody inside. It finally crashed into a thicket of bushes in front of a neighbors house. They were so lucky it didn't hit a house. "Some decades later my grandpa Owen drove his car right into somebody's front living room. That is another story for later."
I do rememember my mother going off one time because being a typical four year old boy, I was across the street at their house and I climbed up on the roof with them and was pissing off the side of their house with all three of them. I bet that was a sight. I was Four and Shawn, Norm, and Phil were 5 to 8 years older than me. I just remember my mom coming outside and hollering all kinds octaves and saying they should know better than to be teaching me that shit. Thinking back now, I am laughing my ass off to myself picturing this. I had a hell of a start in life.
I spent most of my weekends going north with Grandpa Norm. He had this van he set up for camping. I remember waiting and waiting for him to pick us up after he got out of work on friday or finally make it out on Saturday morning. If it was Saturday, it would take forever to get to the cabin. He would hit every yard sale on the way up. It was always an adventure. I often think a lot of my ways came from grandad. There use to be these stockyards in standish with a small flea market outside. When one is young, we don't think like average adults. There was a restraunt upstairs above the livestock holding pens. We would go up and sit at the bar and grandad ordered burgers and fries. I am laughing to myself right now thinking about this. Picture this, because the floor was rough sawn lumber with cracks a inch or more wide between them, I thought it was so cool that we could see the cows under us. So think of it like this, we are waiting on hot food and there is wide open fresh cows under us. Mmmmm. We didn't care as kids.
Fishing season made for the best times in the spring. Sucker season on the rifle river, salmon at Foote Dam and following grandpa along these tiny streams Brook Trout fishing. The Suckers run was always the best. One can catch one after another until we would pack up and head back to the cabin with granddad. He worked for Blatz and there was no shortage of beer for the adults to consume so on the way back he was feeling no pain. We would be singing 99 bottles of beer on the wall on a CB radio, while he was driving us back to the cabin. We would be having a time of our young lives. This was back when there was no asshole cops, no seat belt laws and people were care free. Oh I miss those times. To be young again! I think I lived my life in a freebird fashion in later years because of this.
I don't recall many memories at Foot Dam or on trips smelt dipping. The weather was always a little colder and being young we stayed at the camper. What I do have is memories of Brook Trout fishing. Grandpa and I was headed to town and he pulls off the shoulder by this thicket of cedars. You couldn't barely see through the trees. Imagine a wall of brush and a decline down a gully. He gets out and tells me to grab the small tackle box and worms. I'm like 5 years old thinking what is he doing? He done bumped his head. Theres no lake or water here. I found out otherwise. We walk down this over choked bank and at the bottom is a stream a foot or two wide. One cannot even see it. Grandpa says give me a worm and be quiet. I got the worm and he puts it on the hook and says "these brookies are spookie. Ya gotta sneak in on them." I am thinking as a 5 year old, what the hell is a brookie. We sneak up to this tiny stream and as soon as he lowers his hook down pow this fast little fish was on the line. I was really amazed. We ended up limiting out on them tiny ass fish and this was my introduction to brookies. I know where that little honey hole is to this day. Memories.
Summer time at the Lot on Secord Lake was always a blast. The whole family would be there. All my uncles and cousins. They was all raised on that river. I remember my dad and uncle Dave could water ski like no other. This was long before wake boards.
With Grandpa and Uncle Dick being there, it was non stop swimming, boating, food and alcohol.
Back in the early 70's there was just Rich, Tarra And myself. Tarra was Uncle Dicks Favorite. He called her Fat Butt. Rich and me was either into something or arguing but that's just cousins. My thing was people watching and listening to a bunch of stories told by drunk relatives around the fire. Uncle Dick was the best. He could make one feel like they was there like a good book writer. Today, the Lot stays empty for most part and the people that made it alive are long gone and all I have is memories. These memories are a part of me today. My awakening didn't really happen until around 1975. That has a whole other chapter to itself. Rock music and being told by my mother "If you don't whip that little bastards ass, I'm gonna whip yours." All this while trying to get my nose to stop bleeding at four years old from getting hit square by the new neighbor kid. This is why the world is so messed up. We have a bunch up women for men now. Most have never been in a fight. They fight from a screen name now. Just saying.......
