Tuesday, February 22, 2011

I Like Maps...

... in part because they create the comforting illusion that I know where I am.

And where I once was.

Here's a map of my old Toledo neighborhood that shows how some of the places and events I've talked about in this blog relate to each other:

Red Dot 1 is where I lived from early 1960 until August, 1968.

Red Dot 2 is where I lived from November 1970 until August, 1976.

Red Dot 3 is where The Big House with The Tower stood.

Red Dot 4 is where the woman jumped out of the attic window, circa 1964.

Red Dot 5 is where the 12-year-old boy was run over by a semi truck, circa 1963.

Red Dot 6 is where 4-year-old Dolores ran out into the road and was struck and killed by a car in 1953.

Red Dot 7 is where I almost roller skated out into traffic, circa 1964.

Red Dot 8 is where I saw Nick run out in front of a car and get hit.

Red Dot 9 is where Nick lived.

Red Dot 10 is where my friends Rick and Tim lived. They're the ones who were chasing Nick when he was hit.

If there was a Red Dot 11 to show where I saw my first dead squirrel in the road, it would be a block or so north of Red Dot 8.

It all seems so clear and obvious when plotted out on a map and then explained in a few simple words.

Then I realize once again that everyone who ever lived on my first block could probably come up with a map like this - and every map would be radically different.

And this is just one block in a city full of them.

And Toledo is just one small city....

The world really is full of stories, isn't it?

Thank goodness I'm under no obligation to remember any of them - not even my own....


  1. I've never met a Dolores in the larval stage. They've all been fully formed adults by the time I met them with blue hair and dentures.
    Well, I guess the denture part means they had lost some of their form, but you know what I mean.
    Join the Chorus for Dolores. Pucker Power.
    In case I don't see you tomorrow, don't click this link:

  2. Visit this link instead:


  3. I love maps, too. Maps are a close approximation of being able to fly. Without the wind in the face. Or the potential vertigo.