Up On The Roof

I often found myself needing a place of refuge as a restless and anxious youth in my small town of Johnsonburg, Pennsylvania. Growing up there in the 1970s was a mixed bag... wonderful memories interspersed with memories of sadness and isolation. We lived in an old house completed at the turn of the Century and modified extensively through the years. A couple named Earle and Elizabeth Rank were the owners of the house at the time they sold it to my parents. The Ranks purchased it in 1945 after a series of owners including the Armstrong Realty Company at some point during the Great Depression. It was Mr. Rank who completed the most extensive renovations attesting to his skills as a carpenter. According to mom, he also had a brother in the linoleum industry which was clearly reflected in his generous use of linoleum in all the renovations. After demolishing the garage facing the alley, Mr. Rank constructed an attached garage--one of the few on our street--Elk Avenue. He also designed a unique wood latticework to the slightly sloped roof--which appeared flat from the street. The window of my bedroom opened onto the roof of this garage.

At some point in my early teenage years, I discovered that simply opening the window to this roof offered a place where this particular child could claim ownership and, without permission of course, begin to spend a great deal of time there. A blanket often provided all that was necessary as a shield from the often hot asphalt shingles. In the heat of summer, enjoying a night in a sleeping bag in this personalized space was the ultimate. I found one of my few escapes from everything on this roof. Later, I discovered that strategically placing a ladder against the side of the garage would allow me to actually escape without ever having to exit any of the doors. It was ideal for those summer nights when I would steal away to watch old black and white movies with the elderly widow who lived next door. I could climb the ladder again at 2 or 3 in the morning without any concern for waking mom and dad. The roof would also ultimately assist me when I attempted to run away from home at fifteen. In the dead of winter, I tossed a suitcase into a snowdrift against the garage to grab on my way out the door to "school." The next morning I grabbed that suitcase and headed to the nearest highway to hitchhike my way to freedom.*

What I remember most about this roof was that it was my place to think. It was the place where I could imagine a future outside of the town. I could also write and draw with very few interruptions. I found that I actually enjoyed being alone. Unfortunately, I couldn't take my dog Barney out onto the roof. That would have truly completed the idyllic setting. I loved that roof.

Years later, after I'd been living in Texas for some time, I returned to Pennsylvania one summer to find that my father had removed the latticework from the roof of the garage. When I questioned mom she told me that the wood had rotted extensively and had to be removed. Even though this never truly served a utilitarian purpose it did kind of act as a "fence" around the perimeter of the garage roof. I  went up to my old room and opened the window to revisit my old escape. It felt a little less safe as I leaned over the edge to see the home of the widow next door--now dead for several years. I looked down where Barney used to have his doghouse and runner. I looked across the street to our longtime neighbors and friends--the Fabiano's. I took it all in. It was definitely a good memory.

That was the last time I walked outside on the garage roof at 205 Elk Avenue in Johnsonburg, Pennsylvania. It's still there. I wonder sometimes if the new owners ever open that window and venture out for another view.

*see blog titled "January 21, 1980"

(brother Bill in front of the garage. 1964) 

Thomas Boylan · Upontheroof.WAV