All up and down our street there are portable basketball goals set on the curbs. People shoot baskets and play games in the street when there are no cars coming. When a car comes, they grab the ball and stand on the lawns or sidewalks until it passes. The official speed limit in our neighborhood is 25 miles per hour, but we never drive that fast, and most folks who come here drive 15 mph or slower most of the time. We like it that way. There is a shortage of parking, so even if there were no people playing in the street, there would be plenty of parked cars to avoid. The streets are narrow, so if there are cars parked on both sides of the street there is barely enough space for two cars to pass in the middle. I usually just wait for the oncoming car to pass at an intersection or a space where I can pull over to the curb. It isn’t that far to the farm to market road that leads to the Interstate.

We are walkers, so we appreciate the slower speed of the cars in our immediate neighborhood even though we have good sidewalks.

In our little section of the street, we have a unique feature. One neighbor across the street from our house has a teenage son who is getting quite good at basketball. He is often out in the street shooting baskets in the late afternoon or evening. We enjoy watching him play and have noticed the improvement in recent months. Our next door neighbor, who lives directly across from the family with the teen, is an elementary school gym teacher and a basketball coach. He is often out in front of his house taking a few shots and talking with the teen from across the street. They have lined up their baskets so they have a makeshift basketball court. Of course the street isn’t wide enough for it to be as long as a basketball court. I don’t think the street is even the width of a basketball court. But there are two goals and a bit of space between them to dribble.

Yesterday when we came out of our house to go for a walk in the late afternoon, there was quite a basketball game going on in the street. There were six high school boys, three stripped to the waist and the other three wearing their t-shirts, playing a game. They didn’t have a regulation court. There were no lines marking the boundaries. There were no officials, no coaches, no rigid rules. They called their own fouls, but had to stand under one basket to shoot a free throw at the one across the street. There weren’t that many fouls, anyway. They weren’t playing that intensely. They were just having fun.

I’ve been known to complain of the smell of our neighbors behind our house and their marijuana smoke drifting over our fence. Yesterday, however, I felt grateful to live in a neighborhood where teens gather for a pickup game of street ball. There was a really good feeling knowing our neighbor was comfortable inviting his friends over for a game.

Down the street there is a side street that ends in a cul-de-sac. After school yesterday, the street was temporarily blocked with a hockey net. Preteen and teen boys had quite a game going with roller blades, hockey sticks and a a puck. We’re right on the Canadian border here. Hockey is a big deal. But for a little while, those kids didn’t need regulation equipment and pads and expensive ice time. The street in front of their house, a net made of PVC pipe, some roller blades, a hockey puck and a few sticks were all they needed to have fun.

On the other side of the bay there is a gated and guarded community with houses on lots that are a half acre or bigger. The streets are wide and there is no on street parking allowed. If there are basketball hoops or hockey goals in that neighborhood, they are all hidden on backyard tennis courts. You won’t see children playing in the street. I don’t think there are many children who live in those houses with their three and four car garages, multi-level decks and great rooms that are bigger than some of the houses in our part of town.

I wouldn’t trade homes with the folks behind the gates for anything. I know I’m much happier living where the streets are full of children and we share not only the smell of the neighbors who smoke recreationally, but also the smell of our backyard barbecues. There are dozens of homes in our part of town where folks use their garages as an extra room, with living room furniture and a television set. On a summer evening, their garage doors are open and they are cooking supper on the barbecue in the driveway. I don’t mind that smell at all. On labor day, I was smoking ribs and baking biscuits in a dutch oven with charcoal and sharing the smells and smoke with our neighbors. That gated neighborhood might be quieter than ours, but ours is a lot more fun. Come Halloween, we’ll have a hundred kids yelling trick or treat for every dozen they see. Chances are pretty good they don’t know the fun they are missing.

Growing up today in our society is a tough job. There are a lot of pressures on high school youth. Most of our high school friends have schedules that are busier than ours. They balance school, jobs, and extracurricular activities. They have the pressures of social media and cyberbullying and hyper competitive college admissions. Every once in a while they need to lay aside all of that. They need a time when the cell phones aren’t in their hands and their school books are temporarily set aside. A pickup game in the middle of the street is just right.

When they need to find a game, they are always welcome in our neighborhood. It is a good place to live.