The 'War of Normasis Hill'

The 'War of Normasis Hill' is a fond memory from childhood. First off, "Normasis Hill" was so named by a 6-year-old named James Urig from the block over from my house. He was trying to say "Enormous" but it came out Normasis. Still, the name stuck and it was perfect because "Normasis" sounded much bigger to a lot of us kids than "enormous."

Anyway, the "hill" started as a body of dirt dumped illegally in the backwoods of Howell Township, down the dirt road from my house, in the woods, in about 1973. Originally, the mound was about 15-feet high and 30-feet wide. It was an impressive site to a bunch of kids a shade over 4' tall.

Immediately, the kids found a perfect use for it: playing war! The teams were fairly stable with minor variation: the 'Evil Empire' that consisted of the dread and diminutive Jimmy Calendrielo, his steadfast companion John Urig, his cousin Freddy Sorino and this overgrown kid whose name I can't remember. Anyway, they would usually begin up top. Meanwhile, the 'Allied Forces' of Johnny Hunter (an impressive rock-throwing force) and his brother, Hugh, would usually join my neighbor, Paul Fiquet, and myself trying to take the high ground from this 'evil foursome' with some regularity.

Here is how the battles of Normasis Hill were waged. Kids would climb up top, with a lot of big rocks (yes, rocks) and throw them down on anyone trying to climb up on their strategic heights. Meanwhile, the kids at the bottom of the hill enjoyed a generous supply of rocks all around, while the defenders of the hill had to bring their supply with them (rationing raised its ugly head. lol).

So, the attackers took one of two routes: They would wait out the enemy, in World War I trench warfare mode. This was logical. Always worked and made perfect sense. But, it was boring. So, ultimately it came down to four screaming kids running up the side of Normasis Hill throwing rocks (yes, rocks) as hard as they could at the four kids up top. In the meantime, the defenders up top would be throwing both sand and rocks down on the attackers. Once up top, if anyone made it there, (after all, rocks really, really hurt when you were nailed with them. A shot in the head was off the hook pain) the fighting became hand-to-hand and kids were either taking swings at one another or throwing each other as best they could off the top, wrestling style. At the end of these battles the kids were dirty, bloody or bleeding, tired as heck, bruised and sometimes with sprains. It was glorious! There wasn't a better feeling out there. For a couple moments we were John Wayne fighting bad guys at Fort Apache ... or John Wayne fighting someone else in any of the billion movies he made. Then, after the obligatory name calling and posturing, we would go home for dinner around dusk. We did this for a couple years, between 1974 or so and probably 1976. It was great.

But then, as we all knew would happen one day, the game became boring and felt like kid stuff (despite the generous amount of blood and thumping that took place). Then, Normasis Hill started being used as a dirt bike feature by the kids really into that back then (which were few). Nevertheless, sovereignty of the hill had passed hands and that was it. When they were done with it, who knows when -- I think that was it for a while. Of course, the kids became high-schoolers and Normasis Hill, now a good deal smaller from its long and arduous service, became nothing more than a rise in the ground of four or five feet and kids used it to smoke weed on and get drunk or occasionally score with their girlfriends there during good weather.

Many years later, when I was an adult, I strolled down that old road, past the blackberry bushes that no longer produced any blackberries, into the woods (that looked so much smaller now) and found my way to the hill again. It was not a hill or a mound or even much of a rise anymore. It had become 'Normasis bump in the ground.' In a way it was sad but in another way it was a very proud thing for that little hill. It had been the playmate of nearly every kid in my large neighborhood for so long and so unselfishly that this one-time illegal clop of dirt turned out to be almost a surrogate parent to these kids. I mean, after all, in those days our parents drank pretty good after week. I would have trusted the hill behind the wheel of a car a lot faster than most of my relatives (lol). Anyway, that was the War of Normasis Hill. Don't know who started it. Don't know who won. But, it was a great campaign nonetheless.