by Frank Butry

Created on: February 01, 2009   Last Updated: August 21, 2011

It was once called 'The Honeymoon Capital of the World", my hometown was. Not so much anymore, but back when I was growing up, it had a great mix of industry and tourism. It may not have been the Honeymoon capital anymore, but it was nice place to grow up. Niagara Falls, at least in my memory, will always hold a special place in my heart.

We had it all as kids in those days. From Little League parades, to makeshift sandlot football , to outdoor basketball. We even played hockey in the street. I can still hear the youthful voice from my past, one of us kids yelling "car", and we had to vacate the street for a unplanned timeout. Once in a while, some would be quarterback would hit the phone lines with a too high pass, causing many a parent in the neighborhood to come out and remind us there was a playground just around the corner. We always got the hint and would leave. I still can, and I bet most of my old friends could as well, the boundaries for the game, the two telephone poles were the end zones, the curb was out of bounds. The park down the road, Gill Creek was its name, was always a buzz with all different kids from every age. The older guys would shoot hoops in front of the girls, showing off what they could. Until I got older, I could never figure out why they would do that. It was fun to either ride your bike to the park, or just get a game going in the street. No worries about bullies or bad guys, my neighborhood was a safe.

The neighborhoods in Niagara Falls were mostly the same, divided by ethnics and color, but the one thing that made us all one was our social structure: middle class. The probability of your dad working in a factory was very good. We had lots of them in those days, I still remember the factory whistles blowing, reminding me it was 4:30, time to head home, and fast. My dad would not hear of us being late for supper, his favorite line was" your mother does not run a restaurant" If it was summer vacation from school, that was our alarm clock. After dinner, came more activity of a sport nature, running off those monster dinners our mothers made. While our dads worked, our moms were mostly cut from the same cloth. Hard working homemakers, who kept us in with those famous words"wait till your father gets home". If it was someone else s mom, the threat would be" I know your mom and dad, and I am going to call them". It would send chills down your spine.

In my particular neighborhood, we had places to hang out with such imaginative names

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