I almost cried when I read “Roxaboxen”, written by Alice McLerran and illustrated by Barbara Cooney. It was such a sweet story and it reminded me of my own childhood game with friends.
In the back of the book, the background behind the story, the author shared that it was about her mother’s childhood. She researched from relatives, former residents and documents from her childhood. It was located at Second Avenue and Eighth Street in Yuma, Arizona.
As a new Yuma resident, I also had to see the site. Sure enough, it is there and has been preserved as a neighborhood historic site. It wouldn’t mean much to you if you hadn’t read the book once you’ve done it, you can picture the kids playing. It’s a steep hill with just a bunch of boulders and rocks. A sidewalk, benches and signs have been added.
In the story, the children built a village using smooth rocks and colored glass. They elected a mayor. The sticks became riding horses. They had adventures in the Wild West. They said there was a river. The rocks were made into play money for currency used in dummy shops made from old wooden boxes. They made a graveyard for the lizard. They sucked the honey from the Ocotillo flowers.
A gray-haired man recalled good memories while picking up a stone on a beach. Fifty years later, the woman the story was about returned to find the rocks still there.
When I went to see the site, I did not see a chassis, a graveyard or wooden boxes. I saw the rocks and the outlines of the towns in history. The area is low-income, industrial, and run-down. Yuma is a true old west town. It is developing and snowbirds inhabit the Foothills area, but it is still open enough to appreciate the history behind it. You can see mountains around for miles.
As I recall my own childhood adventures, I can imagine these children playing. They would not have been rich. They remind me of “The Little Rascals” which we emulated. They also remind me of “Peter Pan”.
Children are the same from generation to generation, all over the world. There is an innocence in childhood that we lose as adults, but it is always there for us to take advantage of when we are ready to return to it. In this case, it is lucky for us that it has been preserved. I plan to read the story to my grandchildren and take them to the site when they are a little older.
