My parents, Elmer and Marian Schneidmiller, purchased a lot and built a home in the Valley Country Club Addition on Liberty Lake's north side in 1956. The house, a red brick rancher, was situated between the golf course and lake atop Della Street overlooking the Northside Beach Club's community beach. Although many lakefront lots were available and at reasonable prices then, my parents opted for a view lot thinking it more peaceful. Besides, my dad's thought was, "When would farmers have time for lake activities?"

There was plenty of open space to play, but a concentrated amount of neighborhood fun took place on the former Liberty Lake School grounds. Norm and Darlene Stokke purchased the old school and tore it down. They salvaged the building materials and used them to construct a home on the east side of the property.

The empty land where the school once stood became our baseball field. We used glazed masonry blocks salvaged from the school's demolition for our bases. They were indestructible yet hazardous for the unsuspecting player who found an exposed edge sliding into second. Square in the middle of right field was Norm's brickyard. Any ball that found its way in there received the automatic double rule. An added advantage to having stacks of bricks occupy the space was it took one less player to defend the outfield. There was no backstop behind home plate; instead, there was a manual merry-go-round remaining from the school's playground. This gave the team at bat something else to do as they waited their turn to hit. However, if the catcher missed the ball, play would be suspended until the carousel stopped and the ball could be retrieved from underneath the contraption. A substantial portion of the outfield sloped downhill away from home plate, making it difficult to defend especially when the older kids were up to bat. If the outfielder played up, they often had to back pedal downhill to make a play on the ball. Whereas if they played back, it was difficult to see the batter. 

While our baseball field was lacking, our football field was nicer than most neighborhoods could hope for. It was flat with a well-manicured surface of Merion Bluegrass. What we called our football field on a crisp Sunday afternoon in the fall, others called the fifth-hole fairway of the Liberty Lake Golf Course! Back then only a three-strand twisted wire fence framed in the course with occasional openings so golfers could fetch their wayward golf balls.  The course professionals and superintendent did not seem to mind our playing, nor did the golfers. Golf play was light in October, and if we spotted a group on the tee we would stand out of the way until the golfers passed. I remember one such occasion when the group of golfers included our affable neighbor, Mitch Kiblen. He had a propensity to tinker with his golf swing and on this particular occasion he was excited to show Gary Rasmussen (one of our players and an outstanding golfer himself) what he was working on.  This demonstration went on for a few minutes and, after some encouraging words from Gary, the group played through and the football game resumed.

South of the golf course across Sprague Avenue, the residential block between Ward and Clubhouse was void of houses until the early 1970s.  Several fruit trees remained from the time this ground had been planted as an orchard, around 1912. Even though these trees had not been maintained in years they still bore fruit - especially the crabapples - providing plenty of ammunition for crabapple fights. Overgrown with plenty of branches close to and touching the ground, the bases of the trees were common fort building spots. In addition to building forts, we also created imaginary households with rooms and hallways made by stomping down the tall field grasses. In some areas the field grasses were high enough to create mazes; of course, back then we weren't very tall.   

An oval trail extended from one end of the block to the other. First used by pedal bikes, by the time I was in junior high it became the hub for neighborhood mini-bikes. In the early 1970s, companies like Honda and Yamaha started to build kid-sized versions of their popular motorcycles.  In the center of the block were some small, rolling mounds of dirt where we attempted to jump with our underpowered 50- and 70-horsepower machines. It should be noted that not all the fun was had by kids, as occasionally adults played there too. I remember neighbor Bruce Johnson and his brother Butch, our friend Denzel's father and uncle, showing us how it was really done. If images of Steve McQueen and his Triumph motorcycle are playing in your head, you have the appropriate visual! 

Heading north out our front door led to all fields of play. Heading south out our back door led to the lake. The Northside Beach Club was our neighborhood beach, and it still exists today. There weren't many lake toys then except for big truck inner tubes, but we did not care. We spent our time playing "King of the Dock," diving for lake treasures or seeing how far we could swim underwater.  We would do this for hours or, in my case, until I heard two shorts and a long - our family whistle meaning it was time to head home. 

• • • 

• Growing up, all eyes were on "Big Rock" to determine the start of summer swim season. Once all the snow was gone, we could jump in.

• Different resorts at Liberty Lake offered swimming lessons during the summer months. Most kids on the north side of the lake took them in June at Sandy Beach Resort, where you were divided into groups based upon ability. My goal was to make it into the group called "Swimmers." After attempting to swim after the instructor-powered rowboat for what seemed like forever, I realized my place was back in Advanced Intermediate. The name, at least, did not sound humiliating. 

• For land-lovers like myself, the best part of going to Sandy Beach for swim lessons was playing afterward on the resort's playground equipment.

• As mentioned in the April 2015 Splash article "Campfire stories with the Neyland girls," most families had a specific whistle pattern to call their children back home!