THE ALLEYS OF OLD BELONGED TO KIDS
Some stretches of Lachine are the closest thing the West Island can claim as its borderline Old Montreal. The West Island has some stone farmhouses but they are scattered, and would need to all be wheeled into one spot to qualify as an old sector.
One way of drawing the border between what we today call the West Island and the ROM (Rest of Montreal) is where builders stopped putting in back alleys between blocks of attached houses. And only a generation ago, these miles of backway networks were practically owned by and filled with kids at play.
So, why I mention Lachine: The said borough is encouraging its citizens to apply for a program which gives them a $25,000 grant to return alleyways back into substantial grids where (little) people used to commune. Restoration (with decorations, tables, gardens, etc.) implies encouraging people to sit and play out back, away from cars.
I can personally relate to the above for the following reason:
I grew up on the top floor an attached triplex in what is now called the Plateau area. The view was Mount Royal and the cross. How spectacular was that? Of course, we had the gigantic park at the base of the mountain, adjoining (aptly named) Park Ave. The immediate green space was previously known as Fletcher’s Field, named after a nearby farmer. Today it is all JeanneMance Park.
And despite having a megapark to play in, we kids spent most of our recreational time in the alleys. We played hide-andseek and marbles and explored stuff like abandoned cars or just sat and talked kid stuff.
I bring all this up because it may sound very foreign to most West Islanders. I can assure you it was like living the childhood of a Tom Sawyer type. Instead of the Mississippi River we had as many alleys as grown-ups had streets. I moved to the suburbs at 14. Parks with swings didn’t even close to what I left behind, from the standpoint of adventure.
The thing is, old alleys were gathering places for the childhood community. No cellphones to hypnotize you into a social coma. It was uncomplicated; just you and your friends, miles of alleys, and the most important ingredient: Your imagination.
By comparison, the West Island proper never experienced this “wild west” because it went straight from farms to cottages to suburbs. The alleys of old belonged to kids, they ruled. A modern park with all of its amenities is just not the same thing. So what changed? Why did even the old alleys get abandoned? The answer: Cars. To be exact, the necessity for space to park them. Old alleys (like mine on StUrbain St.) have been modified for garages. Safety requirements drove the kids out.
The West Island is all about cars. That’s why street hockey is a struggle if not outright banned. Kids don’t rule any spaces anymore. As I said, parks don’t do it, and backyards are just gated spaces for kids from adjoining houses.
My old neighbourhood back alleys have been paved over to make room for cars and garbage. They paved over kids’ possibilities of adventure. Despite that being a shame in its own right, it is that more sad that West Island kids will never grow up with those Tom Sawyer memories.