We all know that our neighborhood was originally called Bayberry (“Estates”) was added by a realtor in recent years, and is decidedly more upscale than the area was originally was conceived. I and my family (Ed and Marge Wyckoff, my brother, Curt, and beagle, Archie) moved in during the winter of 1958, nearly 60 years ago. I am blogging several Bayberry tales, beginning with “A One-day Baseball Field in Bayberry.”
I was 12, and the neighborhood was filled with kids. On Meadowood Court alone, we had close to 20 kids. Depending on what day or hour it was, there might be a bike race, kickball game, some CO2 racer, homemade bow and arrow target practice, etc. taking place. One major lack: a baseball field. We were all crazy about the national pastime!
Who knows where the idea came from, but it might have been part of a plan– we were always selling something to our wary parents! The idea — to build our own baseball field for the neighborhood! So, one summer Saturday, all the kids and their fathers (moms didn’t do baseball fields in those days, but did help us pack some lemonade, and some fruit for our arduous labor). We all (this was a Bayberry-wide effort, not just a Meadowood one) met in a wooded area that is now part of the “New Neighborhood” past the extension of Turtle Cove Lane, reached after one takes a left just past 33 Woodhollow Lane, where the current resident is building a circular driveway (where have all the front lawns gone)?
This extremely wooded area was a little spooky, and we kids believed a “poacher” lived there. We hardly ever ventured there. But it proved a suitable place for a baseball field, especially since our dads were with us, and we had rakes, and scythes, and a lawnmower or two. After 4 or 5 hours of hard work, we had cleared a field! Its name: Bayberry Ballfield, of course!
We played a game, dividing ourselves by clique, and I can’t remember who won. But we had a great time, especially because we had built it ourselves! You probably think the story continues, we kids using the field on a continual basis. You’d be wrong if you thought this– we never used the field again. One day, never to be forgotten, working with our dads to accomplish an amazing feat! That’s what I call “One… and done!”