A Sky Full Of Stars
Roller rinks, roller coasters, and rad rebounds
In early March, I decided to revisit one of my childhood homes—on foot. After parking at the local Kroger, I filled a Salomon vest with a gel, water bottle, and phone (for the three images below). I planned to run 9-10 miles, and thought the distance from Kroger to the house would be at least a third of the total mileage. Nope. 1.6 miles. Still, the memories quickly returned as I turned left on Waverly Drive and approached the hill’s descent.
I befriended four boys who lived along the Waverly Drive cul-de-sac, and we regularly rode Big Wheels like lunatics down that hill. Legs outstretched. Pedals whirring. Speed intensifying. And then…liftoff. We hit the rounded curb in front of my friend Jason’s house and launched into the heavens before descending on forgiving green grass. After the laughs subsided, the process repeated again and again.
As for my house, I ran by it that day without much thought. Notwithstanding the friends I made on that street, I can’t recall any notable family memories. I do remember a large deck, a large backyard, and a hideous brown couch with a pattern that resembled ghosts with gaping mouths. Maybe that’s why I extended the route to include stops at Sparkles, the fairgrounds, and the YMCA.
I loved visiting Sparkles as a kid. Mediocre cheese pizza and soda, the newest arcade games at the time (see: Altered Beast), and the chance to race peers down the ramp adjacent to the party room stirred immense joy. One year, I won a pair of new skates during a school fundraiser raffle, although heel blisters and slow wheels derailed their potential for long-term use.
Meanwhile, older teenagers glided along the nicked wooden floor, effortlessly turning corners with one leg outstretched in front of the other. Many skated backward with the same ease. And me? I bolted along the stretches but cautiously lurched as the turns approached. Still, the atmosphere dazzled and the bass pounded.
Strobe lights, blacklights, disco balls, cheesy carpet, and the deejay ushered in the magic every visit. Remember that scene from The Office (scroll to 5:00) with Dwight, Andy, and Darryl at the local roller rink? I’d love to experience that magic again.
After the Sparkles memories subsided, I continued running on Sugarloaf Parkway to the Gwinnett County Fairgrounds. Like Sparkles, the memories are fuzzy. But I can recall the allure of cotton candy and funnel cakes, carnival games that required nothing short of the Force, and the almighty Gravitron.1
If you visited a fair or carnival in the 1980s or 1990s, you likely know about the Gravitron. The structure, which resembles a UFO, rotates quickly so riders experience a centrifugal force. As the force intensifies, riders can move along the angled, padded walls without touching the ground.
The Gwinnett County Fair still takes place in late September. I like the idea of bringing my kids, although I suspect my son might hesitate to ride the Gravitron. My daughter? She would probably laugh throughout, just as I did. Their nimble fingers may yield better results at the games, too. On second thought, they would lose a lot of money.
The trash strewn by the J.M. Tull YMCA fence symbolizes the days leading up to an epic one-on-one basketball game between two middle-school students. To my knowledge, I’ve tried to be a likable peer throughout school. But that changed in eighth grade as a short-haired, freckle-faced kid decided to bother me on a regular basis.
The popular (see: affluent) guys in eighth grade wore the newest NBA kicks and jerseys from the mesmerizing Eastbay mail-order catalog. I never acquired a Jordan or Pippen shoe, the ones I wanted, but my mother helped locate and purchase a consolation sneaker: the Deion Sanders Nike Air Turf Diamond IV. (On a related note, Sanders has a rich history with Atlanta, playing professionally for both the Falcons and the Braves.)
I had a gleam in my eye the first day I wore those shoes to school. Unfortunately, Walt2 disliked them and made it clear to my face. He had the gall to step on one before walking off. At the time, we both played basketball regularly, so one of us challenged the other to a game at the YMCA. Walt’s friend Whit, one of the popular guys I admired, came to officiate. I played tough but ultimately lost the game by a point or two.
Between Waverly Drive, Sparkles, the fairgrounds, and the YMCA, I discovered a common thread: stars. I rode Big Wheels like Maverick piloted an F-14 Tomcat. After hitting the curb, I likely saw stars for a moment. I think Sparkles is self-explanatory. The Gravitron spun like a star, and I felt like a star on the basketball court. In short, I’m grateful for the memories that continue to burn bright.
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I love The Sandlot, a 1993 film about boys who love baseball and one another. In one memorable scene, the boys ingest chewing tobacco before starting a ride similar to the Gravitron. I’ve laughed to the point of tears.
I’m using the names Walt and Whit for privacy purposes. Many people have zero qualms calling out others online, but I lost a basketball game to a smartass adolescent in 1996. I’m at peace.