Saginaw Street
When I was a kid, my grandparents lived in this cool old house on Saginaw Street in Norway, Michigan. It was actually the house my grandfather grew up in through his 1920s and ‘30s childhood. It’s funny the way you remember old houses as the way you perceived them as a kid. So many vivid details about that house still hold fast in my subconscious. The side and backyards that seemed enormous to three little kids playing kickball with the inflatable Mickey Mouse ball that was kept in the bin under the work bench in a garage that smelled so much like what a garage should smell like it was almost magical. The hedge that separated the property from the alley and met up at a right angle with the whitewashed fence that ran along the garden of flowers and tomato plants on the northern edge of the lot with the gate at the front of the house that had a gap on the bottom that was high enough off the ground to squeeze under. The upstairs den where we would sleep on the foldout couch one or two nights every summer when I would stay up late watching baseball on ESPN and trying to mimic the pitcher’s windup and throwing motion and going out on the little upstairs patio to look at the stars during commercial breaks. Grandpa’s living room recliner where he would snore away while enjoying a nice afternoon nap while Grandma puttered in the kitchen or sat over in her chair knitting and giggling at the noises emanating from her husband. The screened-in porch on the back where we gathered for many summertime family meals to eat grilled cheeseburgers on Ebeling’s bakery rolls with Old Dutch potato chips, watermelon, and Barq’s root beer while listening to the Friday night races at the Norway Speedway a mile down US-2.
This may sound really strange, but one of my favorite parts of the house was my grandpa’s man cave bathroom located right in the front entryway. I don’t know if that front part of the house was heated, but if it was, it was poorly insulated. As a result, Grandpa’s bathroom was always freezing cold in the winter, not that he cared. Turns out it was also cold in the ball turret of a B-17 flying combat missions over enemy territory during World War II, so a chilly toilet seat was pretty inconsequential to Grandpa. There was always a smell of classic Brut aftershave and Old Spice cologne, and an electric shaver, toothbrush, and deodorant permanently residing on the counter. Next to the high-seated toilet was an old school brass magazine rack full of periodicals that could keep a guy entertained for hours. I remember being a little kid and seeing the classic Sports Illustrated cover with Lyle Alzado in a bandana.
Even as a seven-year old kid, I was sort of drawn to lifting, and this was my first time ever hearing anything about steroids. The funny thing is, even though this article claimed steroids cause cancer, it didn’t turn me off to the idea of using them. Lyle Alzado was one of the most badass players in NFL history, so steroids must be pretty powerful stuff if they can help create that kind of monster. I remember someone telling a story about Lyle Alzado walking around Venice Beach and a crowd of chicks and bodybuilders following him. He was one of those people who, even if you didn’t know who he was, you knew he was someone.
But I digress…