12. Gangway

I grew up in the suburbs. All the suburbs, frankly. Or maybe, better said, the one suburb. They all sort of blend together. Yes, there are different trees and methods of getting your mail, but in the end they are all curvy street neighborhoods with the houses a modest distance apart.

I now live in what was probably considered a "streetcar suburb" back when it was built--I don't live in a high rise apartment building or above a storefront or in a block of flats. I live in a detached house, with its own footprint, with no shared walls with any neighbors.

Between our house and the ones on either side are gangways--about three feet wide, leading from the front sidewalk to the backyard.

Gangway. It evokes a certain image, especially in the city, especially in the summertime. A way for gangs. And there are summer mornings when I find the evidence that my gangway has been traveled: the gate is unlocked and the backyard gate to the alley is ajar. Where our yard leads to, I'm not sure, but it does occasionally serve as a gangway.

But that's not the history of the word. Gang and gangway come from the same root, but gangway doesn't come from the modern meaning of gang. More like gangplank. Gang is related to go, and thus gangway is a going way. A way one can go. And the original meaning of gang is simply a group going the same way--which, having seen gangs move, I can still see.

I like words.

I like gangways, too. I like hearing my neighbors, and I like the idea (in a terrible way) that if someone were to try to axe-murder my family in the middle of the night, Colin and Katie next door might notice. The night this past winter when we heard the woman scream, the first place Mike checked was the house next door. We are close by in the city and I've grown accustomed to the closeness.