I grew up in Summerdale (Oxford Circle) in the early-mid 80s. We played: * wireball * suicide (we called it “sooey”) * pitched quarters * flipped baseball cards * stoop ball (no one called it “step ball”) * Deadbox (not in Summerdale, but played with my * older cousins in Harrowgate) * Wall ball * Hand ball * stick ball * halfies * hose ball (my father grew up in kensington and taught us that) * wiffle ball (regular wiffle ball and padded bat with tennis ball — a lawn chair for the strike zone) * Spring * Freedom * Knock Knock Zoom Zoom * King of the Hill * hide and seek in the back alley/cubie holes * kick the can * foot hockey * 2 hand touch/1 hand touch * steal the bacon * straw races (when someone turned on the fire plug and we’d race drinking straws all the way down the street to the sewer) I can’t count how many pinkies, tennis balls and pimple balls I roofed from the age of 5 to 13!
On the way to Summerdale Day Camp, we used to sing…. Oh you can’t go to heaven (Repeat) On the Frankford El (Repeat) ‘Cause the Frankford El (Repeat) Goes straight to…. (Repeat) Oh you can’t go to heaven on teh Frankford El ‘Cause the Frankford El goes stright to …. I ain’t gonna grieve my Lord no more. We would then put in kids’ and counselors’ names and make up rhymes– like You can’t go to heaven in Mickey’s socks, ’cause like his head they’re full of rocks….. It was a nice alternative to 99 bottles of beer on the wall!