The Woods - 2007-2012: Reflecting on My Childhood

As a young boy, my head was in the clouds and my hands, knees, and toes were in the woods. My parents let my brother and I go explore wherever we pleased, even as young as five years old. It was a safe and friendly neighborhood, the kind of neighborhood where you knew who lived in every house.

I grew up in central Indiana - Zionsville, Indiana, with lush forests and dense oaky woods. Right before the stock market crash of ‘08, my once nuclear family moved into one of the first houses built in this neighborhood. The neighborhood was once private farmland, owned and sold by a family that lived down the street from me.

Our house was backed up against an ocean of trees. Back then these woods stretched miles and miles. This solidified my sense of direction, and to this day I can navigate foreign roads and pathways pretty well. Even Union Elementary could be reached if you traveled through the trees a certain way.

As kids, my friends, brother, and I would see how far we could get without getting lost. Eventually, you’d lose sight and just see trees. All around you: towering tulip trees. As you ventured into the woods we’d stumble across landmarks that could remind us where we were.

There were scrap dumps littered every here and there. There were spirals of barbed wire (which on a few occasions we cut ourselves and one time my buddy had to get tetanus shots). Gas cans, car parts, and milk jugs could be found which had probably been decomposing there since the late 70s or maybe 60s.

There were hunters’ posts far up in the trees and we’d joke about being picked off like deer. In central Indy, there aren’t many dangerous wild animals. The worst would be a black bear but this neighborhood was surrounded by miles of flat farmer land. Despite being in the woods so often we only ever saw deer and the occasional snake. I hate snakes.

One time when I was probably eight, my buddy and I were playing hide and seek and we found a large hay pile in a grassy open. Likely it was dumped by construction workers. We jumped inside the pile to hide away; but we were surprised by a long, yellow garter snake - a harmless little guy with red spots. We bolted out and ran to the other guys, but when we told them they didn’t believe us. I think that’s what induced my fear of snakes to this day. Too creepy.

If you adventured far enough, you’d find an old abandoned tanker station from the 50s, with rusted gas pumps, a beaten-down service shop, and even broken tractors left to rot. We used to pretend it was haunted. We didn’t discover it until I was maybe eleven.

On my block, there were tons of kids of all ages. A handful of us (the lucky ones) lived backed up against the woods. You could walk from one buddy’s house all the way down to the next in a single stretch.

A little ways in, there was this creek that ran parallel to our backyards. We would play in the clear waters till they turned muddled; catching crawdads, finding fossils, and even once drinking it. Do not drink creek water. You will get stupid sick. Our parents were not happy when we bragged about it, but it taught me a lesson. “Look I don’t have to come in when I’m thirsty!” Sure.

Some of the older boys built a bridge connecting two sides of the creek. The thing was legit and reinforced with hardware store supplies. Either that or the wood was stolen from a construction site. I hope it’s still there even a decade later. Likely not.

There was this giant tree that fell down. It was hollowed out so we could squeeze inside and relax. The Indiana trees were like skyscrapers and they hung over us, casting spotched shadows and leaking sap. Some were large and thick, others were thin and wobbly and they shook in the breeze. The one that fell was a huge oak tree. You couldn’t miss it and it was our own landmark; but for some reason as we grew up, it disappeared. Soon we were never able to find it again.

There were tangled vines to swing from and thorn bushes to hurdle. Many times I got poison ivy. Many times I lost my shoes in the muddy ‘quicksand’. If you find an orange Croc back there, that’s mine.

In the woods, we used to embrace our imaginations. I grew up with generally the same group of guys. Some kids would move away, new kids would move into their houses, and some even came back. But there were about the same eight of us, tight-knit, that hung around the neighborhood from 2007-2012. I was one of the youngest.

I spent my youth actually doing stuff. For example, all of the kids would play ‘medieval’, like pretending to be knights, theives and hobbits and stuff. We had stick swords and homemade cardboard shields, and we’d split up across the vast woods and form our territories. We spent hours scoping out areas and sneaking around just to ambush each other.

This was great. However there was this one guy that didn’t really get it. You would hit him with a stick and he’d pull some dumb shit like “Ow! I have a force field” or try to use a lightsaber.

As kids we took this roleplaying seriously so we shunned him.

Eventually, we all got older and I entered middle school (5th grade is considered middle school in Indy). Some of the guys were even entering high school. By then we stopped being dopey little hooligans. This is just what happens. We went on to spend more time playing Xbox and computer games. I was a proud nerd growing up. I even sported those big, boxy glasses.

In 2013 they expanded our neighborhood. As a result, they cut down 60% of the woods and put in roads and new houses. By the time I moved away, our woods were unrecognizable and practically gone.

There were so many memories made and summers spent in those woods. Though the trees and mysticality are now gone, the kids who were there got to share some of the best moments of my childhood with me. The summers felt endless. I wouldn’t trade my times for anyone elses. It was absolutely priceless.