SKETCHES FROM WHEREVER

i remember the first time i took a stand for what i believed in protesting my well deserved rights. the intensity of the matter still echoes in my mind today.

i have been fortunate enough to have moved to the great flowerplex area before california showed up. my neighborhood was just being developed and several plots of land zoned for houses remained unspoiled. there where three connecting lots at the end of my street that we elementary crusaders of suburbia affectionately called "the base". countless hours were spent there building forts, climbing trees, getting poison ivy, and ripping holes in the knees of our jeans. the base had become an after school program for further development of our character. we had a new respect for creation as we discovered tadpoles and crayfish in the creek forming the rear border of the lot. we understood the structural intengrity of certain pieces of wood. we learned to problem solve and work as a team when finding our way up and down the tallest oak tree in the neighborhood. the base was truly an incredible experience.

one day, as if christmas found an earlier date on the calendar, we arrived to our base to find several freshly poured dirt mounds. my friends and i new what to do. we saddled our bmx's and rode off to do battle with this imposter on our land. hours went by as we popped wheelies and bunny hops, bent spokes and kicked up dust on the mounds. we burned trails in the dirt and and signed our names with the tread of our tires. we ruled and it was fun.

but if their was a life lesson to be learned it was that the things of this world will soon pass away. it was late afternoon. the pavement was warm and the sun was hanging around just above the rooftops of the neighborhood houses. jason goodman, matt nelson and myself set out to do what every elementary kid did after school and that was to conquer once again that empty dirt lot taunting us at the end of my street. we rode our bikes over to the lot and began to blaze around the trails we had made. but the joyful bliss and imaginary world we had created was fractured by and unfamiliar sound. the trail of dust engulfed us as we where all stopped short in our tracks. a tractor, driven by my neighbor emerged from behind his fence. as a knight in a joust, he rode toward us, his shovel his weapon. caught off guard, we watched in horror as he made his first strike. he dug deep into the mound that had become so much apart of the base and unearthed it from it's home. again and again he ripped the soil up and dumped it into the creek. we couldn't sit back and watch any longer. this was our land. our "base". we found it first and cultivated it into something good. he was destroying it. we anticipated his next move and did what we thought best. to sit. we sat in protest at the edge of his destruction and stared down the beast. his shovel sunk in below us and uprooted us from our stronghold. we pushed forward again to hold our ground but the machine was to srong and drove us back. the beast made a few more costly blows but our edurance held out the day as the attacker turned and rode away. it was a bittersweet victory for us that day as we beheld the devastation to our land, our love. but we held tight to what we believed in and fought hard for it. those mounds will see another sun rise and the trends of my bmx.