JUNIPER BUSHES

Where I grew up, developers had thought to use Juniper bushes as a basic "fill-in" landscaping shrub and did so with an overzealousness and an unforeseen consequence...

Kids could hide in them when the lowly plants got bigger--

Now this might not seem like such a big deal, and I'm sure those who built, landscaped, and sold these houses wouldn't lose sleep over this knowledge, but a gnarly, dense, scratchy and prickly group of shrubs can cause all sorts of problems for the adult residences of these hide-out infested suburban neighborhoods...

Kids hid inside holes in these shrub-nests and threw firecrackers and cherry tomatoes at passing cars. After ringing an unsuspecting doorbell, kids dove into the Junipers nearby never to be seen.

"I'll show you mine, if you show me yours" bartering (rumor has it, anyways) occured within the confines of Juniper thickets all over our block. Frisbees and tennis balls died and rotted in those dark and foreboding tangles. A kid who couldn't make it home could find a place to poop safely without condemnation. If you wanted to get a kiss off your surreptitous girlfriend, you did it "in the Junipers"....

In short, the Junipers were a world unto themselves, like the drain sewers in cities might be to city youth. If you made it to the Junipers, whichever stand and in whomevers' yard, you were momentarily safe...

Our Gang, one late afternoon (four of us, my main crew) had a bit of a scam going involving the Junipers. Nothing heinous, just a little inocent childhood fun. What we did is tie a stout fishing line on to a purse, then threw the purse out in the street by a stop sign. The game was simple. We would hide in the Junipers... wait for a car to come by and see the purse, and as the car slowed and stopped, we would wait, because the driver would invariably try the same thing. They would open their door and try to reach down and grab the purse while still at the wheel, leaning out and over without making the effort to put their foot down outside the car. And of course, before they opened their door but after they stopped, we would "move" the purse just out of their reach (or to the very end of their reach) so that when they did open their door, they would either have to back up and reposition their car, or reach WAY out near their tipping point and make a fingertip snag of the purse....

You can probably see what the game actually was. Just as the person was commited to over-extending and nabbing the purse, we would pull on the fishing line and move the purse out of reach. We would "win" if the person toppled over into the street (which was more often than not...) They would "win" if they got a hold of the purse, and we had to RUN!!!!

Either way, this particualr pastime produced hours and hours of pre-dinner fun.

On one night, three of us headed home for dinner and our fourth, Brent, decided to fish for one last topple by himself. Trouble was, instead of a greedy housewife hoping to score some lipstick and cash, a cop pulled up to the stop sign, looked down, and saw the purse just "being" there. Brent was not sure what to do. Running from curlered housewives was one thing, but a cop? He decided to sit still within the confines of the Junipers. The cop picked up the purse. There was a "string" attached. The cop got out of his car and hand over fisted his way over to the Juniper bushes and peered inside. Brent stopped breathing and made himself as small as he could.

The cop smiled. He had the whole situation pretty much figured out, as he had seen the nine year old Brent shivering in a ball inside the bushes. This was not a terrorist he was dealing with. He began to laugh. He laughed and laughed and laughed. By the time he got back to his car, he was holding his sides. He got back into his cop car and declared over his radio that a purse snatching had been foiled and he was now available for further patrols...