Please don't let me be alone.

Last week, as workers tore up and re-paved the street in front of our apartment, I caught a whiff of the smell of tar.

Instantly, I was brought back to elementary school -- a simpler time, when, fun could be measured in toxicity.

The memory?

On especially hot Los Angeles days, parts of my school's roof would liquefy and drip off the sides of the building.

As it fell and collected on the ground, all of us kids would rush to grab the molten gobs of fun. I recall pushing and yelling as we all tried to collect the most tar.

Fresh from the ground, it would be pliable enough to shape into little balls and other non-recognizable shapes. And, as a sign of accomplishment, we would rest the little tar trophies in the pencil groove of our desks.

Knowing children, I'm sure none of us washed our hands before eating our tuna-fish sandwiches and Lunchables. And of course, because children are utterly bizarre, I'm quite sure that some of my peers couldn't resist putting the tar in their mouths.

Such a strange memory.

But considering what a hit "slime" was at my school, it is no wonder that we took great pride in the natural wonder that dripped from the roofs.

The other day I asked Ben if he and his classmates collected tar like my Southern California comrades and I.

His response?

"Um, no."

What about you? Did you play with tar?

Comments

[Paul]

Never, ever, ever. I might now, though, if so inclined.

[Mike]

we used to peel it from the sidewalk cracks on really hot days, roll it into balls and throw them at the bus garage...

[Beth]

I have never played with tar, but my father has told me that as a child he would pick the tar from the road cracks when it was hot and chew it like gum. The things you'll do when you don't have the money to buy Bazooka from the local convenience store.

[slack]

not tar...I have a memory of my shoe melting when I was very little. not all the way through or anything.

enough for sand and rocks to get stuck in the rubber.

[rhapsodie]

being in alaska, the tar never melted unless on purpose by the maintenance crew.

we did lick the ice/water that dripped down the side of the building, though...

[Jako]

I used to find little balls of tar on the sand bars at Ft Walton Beach, FL when I was a lad. (All that off-shore Gulf Coast oil...)
They always fascinated me, but I didn't like the way they made my skin black and sticky so ultimately I gave those little black blobs wider birth than the jelly fish.

[Nicole]

how about the lead caulking in the window frames of particularly decrepit LAUSD schools? that stuff was GREAT--softer and warmer than plasticene, with a pleasant smell.
but my big memory of tar has to do with the actual blacktop--it would get so hot that it would start to melt (especially after a fresh re-paving). We were kept in to play heads-up seven-up those days, just as in rainy weather.

between the smog, tar, asbestos, and lead paint, I don't know if school was such a good idea. oh, and the cafeteria food...

[J.D. Roth]

I grew up in rural Oregon, so far from the city that the state and county governments didn't care for the state of the roads. When I was a child, many of the roads in our neck of the woods were gravel, unpaved.

The roads that were paved were in a perpetual state of disrepair. A quarter mile from our house there was a ninety-degree bend in the road, and in the elbow of this bend the road was crumbling. It was crumbling when I was six, it was crumbling when I was sixteen, and it's crumbling now. Eroding might be a better word.

And when I was six, this was the place that all of the neighborhood children wanted to play. There was a big oak tree at the elbow of the bend (and sometimes, if we were lucky, dirty magazines were hidden around the gnarled roots of this tree).

What does this have to do with tar?

The county, or the state, would sometimes make half-hearted attempts to repair the road. These attempts consisted mainly of throwing down more low-grade asphalt and slathering on mounds of tar. The corner was a great, sticky mass of tar.

On summer days we would break of sticks from the tree and we'd squat in the road and poke the tar bubbles. As the sun beat down on the tar great bubbles formed, black swelling gelatinous things. They were amazing. We'd poke them, and stir our sticks in them. We tried to wipe the tar from our sticks onto other things (grass, rocks, siblings), but it dried too quickly to be spread in that manner.

Playing with tar is one of the great memories of my childhood. Can you tell?

Incidentally, we also liked "smoking vines like cigarettes", to quote Amy Ray. (Actually, all of "Dead Man's Hill" reminds me of my childhood.)

Sorry for rambling.

[one-good-tum]

I grew up in Montreal, where it was never hot enough to melt the tar. I'm not even sure the roof was tarred. We did role giant snowballs into the street and try and stop traffic. Ah, the good old days.

[Jodi]

Sure. When our road was paved, my sister and I would lightly touch the soles of our bare feet to the new surface like dieters delicatly dipping strawberries into chocolate fondue. Unfortunately, however, we couldn't quite manage to create the tar "shoes" we envisioned because the stuff wasn't deep enough, and we also wise enough to know that we'd be the ones scrubbing our feet in vain later that night.

So because we had to seek other, less seemingly permanent, more easily reversible ways to amuse ourselves, we turned to liquid cement, or whatever that thick mucilagesque stuff was that came in a dark amber glass bottle with a brush. With this, we would coat our hands, thus creating gloves (as opposed to tar shoes) which, once dry, we could peel off like sunburnt skin. It was fun to see our fingerprints and hand creases imprinted on the dried cement. (Plus, the stuff, if sniffed deeply enough, was more fun than any mimeographed quiz.)

And as a delicious aside: I also ate crayons (I thought the red ones would taste like cherry), rose petals, paste (but only the kind that came in the container with the stick), and Bonne Bell Lipsmackers (maple syrup flavored).

I'm probably alone in that.

[Jodi]

Sorry for any typos, above. It's 3:17 a.m. here. I think I'm sleeptyping. ;0)

[kismet]

I was never fond of tar, and had a specific distaste for the days when the parking lots would get melty and your shoes would stick as you walked.

[sue-b]

No Jodi, you're not alone. I used to eat rose petals, crayons and dried paste too. And string.

[Jeff]

I, too, grew up in the LA Unified School District and, Nicole, I remember that wonderous squishy feeling of hot blacktop on your soles. Ah, the memories...

Of course, growing up in the east San Fernando Valley, I also remember that "they" also said that playing on the playground during smog alerts would actually increase your immunity to the carcinogens in the polluted air (true story!).

[Joe]

Just had to comment... I lived in sunny San Gabriel valley in California, and I remember the tar dripping from the roofs, don't remember making trophies. I don't think I was that creative in school, just getting in trouble for passing notes and talking non stop. I remember the school shrink saying to my mom. Mrs. Petty, if Joe only stopped talking he might be a good student.

Other things I remember from my childhood, sitting in the nurses office counting all those holes in the ceiling tiles, watching that stupid "The Red Balloon" every rainy day, that movie was so cruel. Those air vents near the windows with the wicked hellraiser edges and the ball room. Kids vied to be in the ball room during lunch. You became the judge of who could check out the playground equipment. I'd tell you more, but it would showcase was a truly evil spawn of satan I was when I was in 5th grade.

Oh the things you'll do for the girl who lets you kiss her.

[Boz]

Funny how Lunchables aren't part of my grade school memories.

[Amber]

We would hunt down the cracks on the playground that had been filled with tar, and slowly peel back the strips of black. Big kudos if you could peel a long strip out, leaving the crack gaping and in need of fresh tar.

And on cold Wisconsin days we would lay on the blacktop during recess, trying to soak up the any warmth we could find. We would lay in groups with our cheeks pressed to the ground.

And I once had a friend who for weeks ate only Elmers paste (the kind in the tub with the orange stick). His mom confirmed the story, saying she bought jar after jar of paste in that phase, thinking he would starve if she didn't. Apparently she never heard the ol' "kids will eat when they're hungry" theory...

[Dave]

One time we walked in a puddle of melted tar to cover the bottom of our shoes.

Then we attempted to walk up the side of the house, like spiderman.

It didnt work...

[Sydney]

We put elmers glue in a dot on the back of our hands and smeared it around. Then when it dried we pulled it off and it looked like dead skin. Ooo, yuk. We even started a club called the white dot club. Hehe, so dorky.

[Peanut Gallery]

I played with tar. And counted the number of animals stuck in hot tar on the way home. Succesfully freed maybe three of them with my trusty magnifying glass.

[Laura]

Another SoCA-er here. Just for props points I'll mention gratuitously that my dad taught math and science in the mighty LA Unified for 30 years. Anyway, I think "tar" and I think LA Brea Tar Pits. Did that place just drop out of the sky or what!

[cecily]

I went to elementary school in southeast Louisiana, and boy do I ever remember the scent of tar. We played with it to, but ours didn't come from the roof -- it was the blacktop of our playground, and we'd push our thumbs into the surface to make thumbprints...

[Nemesys]

Yep.. but then, I also grew up here in So. Cal. Maybe it's a combination of hot weather and the crappy building design in the LAUSD!LOL!

[mouse]

Eeeh, I'm still growing up in the So Cal area. 1.25 more years! :P But I'm a tiny tiny bit south of LA, so my school's not in LAUSD. No tar :( I used to play a lot with rubber cement, though. I went through a stage where I put rubber cement on the carpeted stairs and waited for my mom to come by...

I also used to layer tissue-- toilet paper! with water on my wrist/ankle, attempting to make casts. I have no idea why. Warning, however: those things grow bugs after two days. Nasty.

[Ryan]

No, never played with tar. I grew up in the Northeast. However, I did fry ants with a magnifying glass. Does that count?