Green, green, and greens

The house in Santa Monica was on a corner on Bryn Mawr. Not sure which of two corners, it all looks different now. Santa Monica Airport was up above us on a Hill. I remember the constant sound of planes flying over. 

I remember a lot of things. Early childhood memories are tricky, because we tend to hear stories told and make them our own. I know the ones that are real, because as I grew older I disagreed with my parents' stories. They were often amazed by my version. 

In a sea of white and pastel homes, my dad painted our house green. Not a pale green. Not a dark, sophisticated green. He painted it green like a green crayon a kid would push down hard to make the round top of a tree. It was a bright green Christmas box on the corner. It was a green that made neighbors complain. 

My mom fretted about fitting in and he raged. Sometimes he would shout “If they don’t like it, they can buy the paint and repaint it themselves!” Other times he just repeated, “It’s my house and it’s the color I want.” The house stayed green. 

My brother was 6 ½ years older, and I had great envy of all the activities in his life. He went to school and Cub Scout meetings. He went to friend’s houses and softball practice. He caught lizards and wore holes in jeans and sneaker toes, playing with his Match Box cars. 

My life was mostly contained to house and yard, a few nearby friends, and days at a babysitter while my mom worked. 

Then there was the time the frogs came. 

There was a swampy area at the bottom of the hill. They were planning a park and a golf course, but first they had to drain the swamp. I believe this was when I was around 3, about 1958. 

The sound of heavy earth moving equipment echoed up the hill, at times as loud as the airplanes overhead. Earth was being pushed around, overgrown greenery removed, and a runoff channel contained and redirected. 

Suddenly our neighborhood was filled with tiny green frogs. There were hundreds of them everywhere. The picture in my mind is running around the house at dusk and just scooping them up in my pudgy hands. Dazed and confused by the sudden eviction, the frogs didn’t even try to get away. 

I can’t say if it was one day or several, and they were all just gone. I kept watching, expecting it would happen regularly, like fog or baseball games. What does a toddler understand about destroyed habitats? I waited and watched for tiny green frogs on the green walls and in the green grass of the yard. Sadly, the frogs never returned. 

Just over ten years ago, Harrison Ford took off from a small airport in a vintage plane. Soon after takeoff he lost power. He crash landed on a nearby golf course. There was some damage to the actor, the plane, and the grass.  It could have been a lot worse. He could have fallen short, crashing into the neighborhood of the first house where I lived.