The Night We Slept On the Mall: A Recollection
by Michael C. Keith
Genre: Memoir
Swearwords: None.
Description: A boy looks to the stars.
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If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden. – Frances Hodgson Burnett
We were always on the verge of lacking a roof over our heads, but we had somehow managed to avoid that extreme level of indigence during our countless derelict excursions. However, this time in our ongoing odyssey we had struck out in the effort to secure the most temporary of temporary housing. Thus, we were left to the mercy of the street. I was 11 years old and my father was an alcoholic with a chronic case of wanderlust––the latter had afflicted me early on as well. In fact, it had inspired my decision to remain with my father after the divorce. Besides my mother had my younger sisters to look after.
As usual, we had arrived at our day’s destination––this time the nation’s capitol––without the necessary funds to secure a bed for the evening. Typical though this was, we had always managed to score shelter somewhere. For reasons now forgotten, it wasn’t to be the case this time, and my father was not pleased with the prospect of spending the night exposed to the elements––in whatever form they might take. But my being a kid keen on adventure, the idea of sleeping out under the stars was pretty exciting to me.
In an attempt to put off the inevitable, we walked the broad avenues until late in the evening. I suspect my father was hoping for a windfall that would provide us with accommodations beyond what nature could offer. However, in the end, he was forced to accept the fact that we had no other option but to become what I excitedly called outdoorsmen (the term ‘homeless’ was not yet in common usage). After much pondering, we chose a place to camp near the Washington Monument, on a bench partially sheltered by the sprawling limbs of a huge oak tree.
At my father’s urging, I laid my small frame across the wooden slats of the park bench, and he took up a sitting position at my feet. As the night passed, the temperature dropped but still remained comfortable, since it was late spring. It took no time for me to doze off, but I woke up more than once and gazed up at the towering marble rocket that appeared about to launch to the heavens.
On this particular starlit night, it struck me that my life was pretty great, despite the frequent hardships. I sure was a darn lucky kid, I thought, to be able to sleep at the base of a spaceship and in the same neighborhood as the President of the United States.
Swearwords: None.
Description: A boy looks to the stars.
_____________________________________________________________________
If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden. – Frances Hodgson Burnett
We were always on the verge of lacking a roof over our heads, but we had somehow managed to avoid that extreme level of indigence during our countless derelict excursions. However, this time in our ongoing odyssey we had struck out in the effort to secure the most temporary of temporary housing. Thus, we were left to the mercy of the street. I was 11 years old and my father was an alcoholic with a chronic case of wanderlust––the latter had afflicted me early on as well. In fact, it had inspired my decision to remain with my father after the divorce. Besides my mother had my younger sisters to look after.
As usual, we had arrived at our day’s destination––this time the nation’s capitol––without the necessary funds to secure a bed for the evening. Typical though this was, we had always managed to score shelter somewhere. For reasons now forgotten, it wasn’t to be the case this time, and my father was not pleased with the prospect of spending the night exposed to the elements––in whatever form they might take. But my being a kid keen on adventure, the idea of sleeping out under the stars was pretty exciting to me.
In an attempt to put off the inevitable, we walked the broad avenues until late in the evening. I suspect my father was hoping for a windfall that would provide us with accommodations beyond what nature could offer. However, in the end, he was forced to accept the fact that we had no other option but to become what I excitedly called outdoorsmen (the term ‘homeless’ was not yet in common usage). After much pondering, we chose a place to camp near the Washington Monument, on a bench partially sheltered by the sprawling limbs of a huge oak tree.
At my father’s urging, I laid my small frame across the wooden slats of the park bench, and he took up a sitting position at my feet. As the night passed, the temperature dropped but still remained comfortable, since it was late spring. It took no time for me to doze off, but I woke up more than once and gazed up at the towering marble rocket that appeared about to launch to the heavens.
On this particular starlit night, it struck me that my life was pretty great, despite the frequent hardships. I sure was a darn lucky kid, I thought, to be able to sleep at the base of a spaceship and in the same neighborhood as the President of the United States.
About the Author
Originally from Albany, New York, Michael C. Keith has paternal family roots stretching back to Clan Keith of Caithness and Aberdeenshire. A leading scholar in electronic media in the United States, he is the author of over 20 books on electronic media, as well as a memoir and three books of fiction. Much more about Michael and his publications can be found on his website: http://www.michaelckeith.com