Growing UP

The spring of 1964. It's an awkward year for me and my classmates and for the country. That Cassius Clay guy, the boxer, he claims he's now a Muslim and he's changing his name to Muhammad Ali, so now everyone is confused. A lot of white Americans are confused. Scared too. White people are moving out of the cities and into small towns like mine, where they feel safe being surrounded by "their own kind". Black Americans are speaking out more and more, demanding the freedoms we're all supposed to be enjoying.
Malcolm X scares people. He's another black Muslim, and he's calling all white people devils and he says that black people should stop waiting for freedom and start fighting back-with bullets if necessary. He's a far cry from Martin Luther King, and even Dr. King frightens white people by standing up and protesting without violence.
It's hard for a twelve year old to understand any of this. There are black families living all around me and they ride the bus with us and eat at the counter in Woolworth's and sit next to me at the Wood Theatre on Saturday afternoons. There must be something to all of this, I've seen the violence in Alabama and other places on the news, and the adults talk in hushed tones about "coloreds" and how they should all go back to where they came from if they don't like it here.
I don't get it. I remember my friend Lulu from my earlier days in Woodbury Heights, and how we sat on the swings and played in the sand without a care in the world.
The cares of the world are starting to stare us all in the face now.
Me and my classmates are heading into our teenage years, and we're supposed to be "grown up" now. It's hard to let go of childish things.
I still enjoy comic books and toy soldiers and playing army in the woods. I like girls like I'm supposed to, but I'm too shy or dumb or something to express myself. Do my classmates feel the same way or are they comfortable with what's going on?
My best friend Steve Kay pretty much likes the same things I do, so I'm OK with him as my best pal.
We do take on more responsibilities this year. Steve gets a paper route delivering the Philadelphia Inquirer, and I'm mowing a lot of grass. My lawn is huge, and Dad bought the property across the street when the Leap family moved out. That yard is like a football field, and it takes me all day to cut that and my yard as well.
Mr. Olsen gets me a job taking care of an older lady's yard over on the other side of town. She's going to pay me 75 cents an hour to cut her grass and trim the bushes and rake and whatever else needs to be done. She's a friend of my scary neighbor Mrs. Price, and she teaches me about composting and organic gardening. She watches over me when I trim the bushes until she's satisfied that I'm doing it right. She's got this old orange lawn mower that looks ancient, and it doesn't want to start all of the time, and I'm constantly begging her to buy a new one, but she insists on holding on to it. I'll have to give up some of my Saturday mornings and afternoons when school is over, but I'll have silver in my pocket, and some folding money on a regular basis for the very first time. I don't have to go scrounging around for soda bottles any more.
I can see Gateway High School going up behind my house. What will that be like, I wonder? I guess I'll be separated from my old classmates. It will seem like we're not even in Woodbury Heights any more. My walk will only be a few minutes, and I won't even have a sidewalk to tread on.
This is strange, this growing up and being expected to change.
I wonder if I'm up to it.
I need Whee-Zee right now.