Happy Birthday, America????

Tomorrow is July 4th. I was thinking about the street in Ives Estates where I lived--206th Street. July 4th was always a special day! Our neighbors the Enterlines always had a huge party. Mr. Enterline was a cook, so he'd make slabs of ribs--boiled in his secret sauce and then grilled. So tender! We'd have hamburgers and hot dogs, always with a tinge of lighter fluid, because Daddy liked pouring it on the fire and watching the fire flare up. Cold watermelon. Chips. Baked beans (from several sources, of course Mommy's were the best!). Popsicles. What seemed like vats of ice tea. Wash tubs filled with ice and all kinds of Coke. Ice cream. Cole slaw and potato salad.  And we always had a huge, decorated birthday cake!

Happy Birthday, America????

Well, we had birthday cake, but it sure didn't say "Happy Birthday, America!" Nope, our cake said "Happy Birthday, BOB!" Mr. Enterline was a July 4th baby. In fact, he had his kids convinced, for years, that the whole country was celebrating HIS birthday on the 4th. Bob Enterline was one of the most generous men I have ever met. He threw a party for himself, but also for the entire street. 

That's not the end of his generosity, though. When my mom and dad died, he brought us food for weeks. He and Mrs. Enterline gave of themselves to anyone who needed help. To their credit, they taught their children to be just as caring and generous. Their son Tim used to help my great-uncle care for our yard, after Daddy died. Tim would do anything to help. It's not a surprise that he became a fire fighter. He loved to serve.  Their daughter Kathy would give away anything she had to help others. Mrs. Enterline became a surrogate mother for me. The 4th of July never passes without my remembering the Enterlines and their generosity and kindness. 

Our celebration didn't end with supper. Tim had a large collection of 45's, and he'd be in charge of the music. We sit and listen or dance to the best of the Oldies. Just the families of 206 Street hanging out and enjoying each other. We kids would play tag, hide-and-seek, Bloody Bones, football, cards, whatever we could have fun doing. 

As darkness fell, Tim was in charge of fireworks. My family strictly held to Florida's laws, so we only had smoke bombs, bottle rockets, and sparklers. The Enterlines always stopped at South of the Border and bought boxes and boxes of REAL fireworks. Our neighborhood fireworks were just as beautiful as "professional" fireworks shows. 

I was able to bring my son to one of Mr. Enterline's birthday parties. I loved being able to continue the tradition, if for only one time. Thank you, Enterlines for the great memories!

Miami's "Mayberry"

     Say "Miami," and people think of "Miami Vice," South Beach, Little Havana, "Cocaine Cowboys," or the celebrities living on Star Island. However, growing up in Miami-Dade, specifically North Dade, in the 1960s and '70s was more akin to growing up in Mayberry than South Beach. The neighborhood I grew up in was Ives Estates. Bordered on the north by County Line Road (dividing Miami-Dade from Broward County), to the east and south by I-95, and to the west by the remaining dairy land, Ives was a community which was isolated from the urban sprawl of Miami proper.  This isolation served to build a strong community spirit among the people of Ives.
    Most of us attended Madie Ives Elementary. No school buses were needed; we all either walked or rode bikes to school. The school was built to take advantage of the breezes from the ocean, as there was no air-conditioning. Unfortunately for the students, we still had vestiges of rural life, and we got the smells from the local pig farm and Wolfie's egg farm in that ocean breeze. The egg farm was directly next to the school, and often we'd find chicks from eggs the hens had hidden from the owners. No inside gym--we had a huge field to play in. An old-fashioned metal jungle gym, metal slides, and a black-top with basketball hoops, box ball squares, and hop-scotch squares all ready for us. Those of us who went to Madie Ives in the 1960s remember having to do exercises while listening to "Go, You Chicken Fat, Go!"

     Like Mayberry, we had a "main street." Well, we had a strip mall with a 7/11, Phil's Barbershop, a hair salon, and Harris Drugs. Even as a child, I was allowed to walk up to the 7/11 to bring back bottles for the deposit and buy candy. Harris Drugs had a lunch counter, and I remember getting free ice cream after getting a shot at Dr. Dobbrunz's office. Mr. Harris kept watch on us. I remember trying to buy a pack of cigarettes one time, and Mr. Harris, knowing my parents didn't smoke, questioned me and then called my mom. Never did get those cigarettes, but I got in trouble with Mommy!  My dad knew Phil from the barbershop, and I remember when he and my brother would go for a haircut, they would take at least an hour. I wasn't allowed to go in the barbershop--it was for men. I envision the men sitting and talking about sports or doings at the Optimist Club or whatever it is men talk about. Joe's wife owned the hair salon, and that was the first place I had my hair professionally cut. Ives also had Walker's Ranch. I could go to the corner of 206 and 12th Ave and watch the horses for hours!
    In those days, almost everybody went to church on Sunday. For the Baptists, it was at North Dade Heights Baptist Mission. My Catholic friends went to Visitation. The Methodists and Lutherans went to churches outside of the general Ives area. On my street, 206th Street, you'd see the families, all dressed-up, getting into their cars on Sunday morning. The Enterline boys would be clean and in dress shirts; the Jones girls would have on their chapel veils (which I envied!), and my brother and I would be dressed in our Sunday best as well. I still remember Preacher Jim and the fish fries we had at North Dade Heights. I also remember our whole street going together for Vacation Bible School at North Dade Heights.
    The Optimist Club was THE community center for Ives. We had Brownies, Girl Scouts, and Bingo using the Optimist building. In fact, Daddy made the first electric Bingo board for the Optimist.  They ran the Little League, football teams, and softball teams.  What fun to walk up to the fields on a spring night and watch Little League games, visit the concession stand, and visit neighbors! And all of Ives was excited when the TV show "Gentle Ben" actually filmed two episodes using our Optimist fields.

Ives Optimist Field photo by Craig McWhorter

     Like Mayberry, we had our special characters whom everyone knew. Mike Verle' (RIP) was the de facto Mayor of Ives. The Enterline family--Mike, Pat, Danny, Timmy, and Kathleen--provided me with friendship, entertainment, and, many times, excitement. The Phillips family. The Dunkmans. The Rabins. The O'Chipas. Mr. Perfetti, the school principal. The Burnsides. Coach Eunice Frost. The Emroes. The Consuegras.  I could go on, but I'll add just one more. My favorite paperboy, and first crush, Jimmy Philbreck.
    Maybe Ives sounds like a typical neighborhood, but it was so much more. We pulled together when a family had problems. I remember the visits, meals, and kindness of Ives when my mommy died. Moms watched out for each other's kids, even administering punishment when necessary. There were several bad hurricanes that came through in the 1960s. On 206 St., the electric was out for a couple of weeks. As we kids skid-boarded on the deep puddles, the moms rotated cooking at the homes with gas stoves. The dads helped clean up the whole street--not just their yards. The residents of Ives were an extended family; when one family hurt, we all hurt. When there was joy, we were all joyful. There was pride in our little "Mayberry" that other neighborhoods did not have. Truly, I have not lived anywhere that was like my childhood home in Ives. 

Daddy, Part I

Joseph Anderson Crenshaw 1933-75

      Joseph Anderson Crenshaw--my daddy.  Daddy could be fun. I loved going to the beach with him because he would get out and swim and bob the waves with us. He'd also throw us out into deeper water, which was thrilling. One summer, he got some wood and made us a little cart, stilts, and a see-saw. He also was one of the first on our street to take apart skates and put the wheels on a board--viola'--skateboard! Billy and I had the dog pull us on the skateboard, rather than riding it the correct way. Daddy loved hosting watermelon parties for the street during the summer. He get several melons, put them in metal washtubs with ice for a few hours, and then we all feasted on the coldest, sweetest watermelon! Someone told me that if you ate the white part of the rind, you'd be poisoned, so I always left plenty of pink, but Daddy would eat it all and spit out the seeds. He also taught us that people in the know always put a little salt on their melon. It was also a great treat for us when Daddy made home-made ice cream in an old hand-cranked freezer. We'd crank it, at first, but it would get too hard, then Daddy would take over. I loved tasting the cold salty water that would dribble down the side of the freezer. Daddy could make anything, and he made a grill from a giant metal drum. He seemed to love applying the lighter fluid with a very heavy hand because everything had the faint taste of petroleum.

The watermelon and I

     People would always tell me how funny Daddy was. Really, I didn't get it. I still don't think of him as being funny. I do remember, though, when the guys from the neighborhood would sit around on the front porch, and they'd all be laughing at whatever Daddy was saying. He'd pull pranks on them, especially Mr. O'Chipa who was a wee bit gullible, but well-loved by Daddy.  I remember one of his pranks. We spent Easter afternoon with our friends the Hulseys. Of course, we had an Easter Egg Hunt. Back then, before everyone was concerned about salmonella, the adults would hide real boiled eggs. Well, we kids found all the eggs except one. Mrs. Hulsey and Mommy were worried about that egg going rotten in the Miami sun. So, we searched and searched for at least an hour.Finally, Daddy and Mr. Hulsey, smiling like possums, admitted that Daddy had eaten the egg. At least they found that trick hilarious! I don't think the moms did.
    After Mommy died, Daddy changed, and he became a harder man. I didn't understand then, but I understand now. A widower with three children--my sister only two years old. He had to shoulder more responsibility, and he had to deal with a teenage daughter. Daddy was an only child, so he had no clue about raising girls. Especially a hyper-emotional teen. But, he did his best. And I learned some very valuable skills from him.
    Daddy was a perfectionist. I, by nature, am not. But, he taught me that when you have a job to do, then you do it right. When you're working, do more than what is asked of you. When I got my first job as a popcorn girl at a local movie theater, he told me to work hard, and, if I ran out of things to do, to always ask the manager for more work. I've followed that philosophy all of my working life. And I have reaped the rewards of Daddy's work philosophy. He also reaped the rewards of his philosophy. He was a diesel mechanic and worked on all kinds of engines. He also worked on people's cars and yachts. The rich people who lived down on Star Island passed his name around as a man who was an excellent, honest, and hard-working mechanic. Daddy's reward? He worked for the president of FPL. He was so impressed with Daddy's skill and work ethic, that he hired him as part of the management team. Here he was, a man with a high school diploma from a vocational school, part of FPL's management team. I saw that hard work and giving extra would pay off and was, really, just the right thing to do. I also learned by watching him always to be myself. As he advanced in management, he was just Joe. I remember a picture he had of the management team of FPL. Everyone was in a suit and tie; there was Daddy in a short-sleeve shirt, no tie. He even had an old fashioned fish fry to which he invited the management team. We still lived in working class Ives Estates, but Daddy didn't care. He cleaned out the carport, cut a metal barrel in half to use as the fryer, set out paper plates, cheap wine, and plenty of folding chairs. He was just being who he was and they loved it. I, a little surly at having to attend, ended up playing duets at the piano with one of the vice presidents.Thanks, Daddy, for teaching me to be genuine!