about the brown house. i seem to have a lot of memories of that house, more so than others.
i recall one day when i came home from school one of my brothers and one of his friends were there and we got into an argument about something and i made an obscene gesture at my brother and i remember him getting a knife and chasing me around the kitchen table. boys will be boys
i remember riding my back with a group of older kids to another town. this was a ride of about 10 or 11 miles. it was great fun. that was freedom. i also remember often taking the water hose and washing the outside of the house. the house did not belong to us but i really liked that house.
this was about the time my grandmother who was living with us died. i dont have a lot of memories of her but my family tells me that i was her favorite. that she would take me into her room and give me candy and things and not give any of my 5 brothers or sisters any..
i was sad at her funeral but i dont remember crying, an odd behavior i repeated at both of my parents funerals.. more on that later.
the brown house is gone now. i drive by where it used to be almost every day and it makes me both sad and happy
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Sunday, March 19, 2006
Friday, March 17, 2006
# 13
i believe it will be simpler to number the posts from this point on. It will make it much easier for me in writing and easier for anyone who is reading them.
the last thing i want to add about the incident in my back yard is that i was never angry with my brother about what happened. we were playing and it was an accident..
and besides i got to ride in my oldest sisters lap in a vw beetle to the hospital. That was cool.
several years later we moved to a house in another town close by. where i live most of the towns are close by. this was a large two story house. and my grandmother was living with us. it was christmas time and i had been asking santa for a bicycle. and i got one. i also remember eating peanut brittle with my dad. i dont know why that memory sticks out in my mind but it does.
The most memorial thing about this house is that it burned to the ground right after christmas.
i was awaken one morning by my mother. i remember smelling smoke and she told me to run across the street to our neighbors and tell them to call the fire department. i did this and i remember being so embrassed about them seeing me in my footie p.j's
the fire took everything we had and all our christmas presents except my bike. i remember seeing it sitting in the front yard with the house burning down in the back ground. it was determined that an electrical space heater in my grandmothers room started the fire.
i still remember the firemen draging my grandmother out of the house because she did not want to go...
we then moved to another small town into what i have allways called the big brown house.
again it was two stories, and my grandmother was with us.
i have a lot of memories of this house.
i remember that it was at an intersection across from a service station that was managed by my cousin. i remember that across the main highway and down one block was my mothers sister's house.
one time my next oldest brother walked to my aunt's house to ask her if my mother could borrow a cigarette. the only problem with this was that it was about 3:00 am , my aunt did not smoke and everyone was sound asleep at both houses, including my brother. we allways thought it was a miracle that he did not get hit by a vehicle. of course it was the early 1960's and there were not that many vehicle around, especially at that time of the morning.
i also remember waking during the night and looking out one of the windows at the A&p grocery store that was near the house. my other brother, was working there unloading produce in the early morning. i would look out the window and miss him and feel sorry for him at the same time. i dont recall exactly why i felt sorry for him, but that feeling was strong.
i loved that house because i could ride my bike all over town, going much farther that my mother would have every allowed, if she had known how far away i went on that bike she would have beeten me and ran over the bike..
the service station was my favorite place in the world at that time. my cousin would let me help him pump gas, and clean windwhields and i would sweep up and hang out and make a nusience of myself. i occasionally skipped school to pump gas. another thing i dont think my mother ever knew.
at the rear of the service station was a construction company owned by the same family that owned the service station. i would spend time in the office hanging out and they would also let me ride in the dump trucks.
that sounds kinda wierd now but in that time it was not. it was a different world then. i was never mistreated and those people treated me like a little brother.
i was even allowed by some of the truck drivers to work the controls that raised the dump bed.
i can still remember what the two large metal handles that controlled the dump bed looked and felt like.... that was a wonderful, wonderful time.
i loved doing that kind of thing and i now realize why i'm drawn to that kind of job. the kind where your doing something with your hands and when you finish you can look at what you have accomplished. i got more satisfaction out of pumping gas and cleaning windshields and doing it the best i could than almost any job i have had since i was grown..
the last thing i want to add about the incident in my back yard is that i was never angry with my brother about what happened. we were playing and it was an accident..
and besides i got to ride in my oldest sisters lap in a vw beetle to the hospital. That was cool.
several years later we moved to a house in another town close by. where i live most of the towns are close by. this was a large two story house. and my grandmother was living with us. it was christmas time and i had been asking santa for a bicycle. and i got one. i also remember eating peanut brittle with my dad. i dont know why that memory sticks out in my mind but it does.
The most memorial thing about this house is that it burned to the ground right after christmas.
i was awaken one morning by my mother. i remember smelling smoke and she told me to run across the street to our neighbors and tell them to call the fire department. i did this and i remember being so embrassed about them seeing me in my footie p.j's
the fire took everything we had and all our christmas presents except my bike. i remember seeing it sitting in the front yard with the house burning down in the back ground. it was determined that an electrical space heater in my grandmothers room started the fire.
i still remember the firemen draging my grandmother out of the house because she did not want to go...
we then moved to another small town into what i have allways called the big brown house.
again it was two stories, and my grandmother was with us.
i have a lot of memories of this house.
i remember that it was at an intersection across from a service station that was managed by my cousin. i remember that across the main highway and down one block was my mothers sister's house.
one time my next oldest brother walked to my aunt's house to ask her if my mother could borrow a cigarette. the only problem with this was that it was about 3:00 am , my aunt did not smoke and everyone was sound asleep at both houses, including my brother. we allways thought it was a miracle that he did not get hit by a vehicle. of course it was the early 1960's and there were not that many vehicle around, especially at that time of the morning.
i also remember waking during the night and looking out one of the windows at the A&p grocery store that was near the house. my other brother, was working there unloading produce in the early morning. i would look out the window and miss him and feel sorry for him at the same time. i dont recall exactly why i felt sorry for him, but that feeling was strong.
i loved that house because i could ride my bike all over town, going much farther that my mother would have every allowed, if she had known how far away i went on that bike she would have beeten me and ran over the bike..
the service station was my favorite place in the world at that time. my cousin would let me help him pump gas, and clean windwhields and i would sweep up and hang out and make a nusience of myself. i occasionally skipped school to pump gas. another thing i dont think my mother ever knew.
at the rear of the service station was a construction company owned by the same family that owned the service station. i would spend time in the office hanging out and they would also let me ride in the dump trucks.
that sounds kinda wierd now but in that time it was not. it was a different world then. i was never mistreated and those people treated me like a little brother.
i was even allowed by some of the truck drivers to work the controls that raised the dump bed.
i can still remember what the two large metal handles that controlled the dump bed looked and felt like.... that was a wonderful, wonderful time.
i loved doing that kind of thing and i now realize why i'm drawn to that kind of job. the kind where your doing something with your hands and when you finish you can look at what you have accomplished. i got more satisfaction out of pumping gas and cleaning windshields and doing it the best i could than almost any job i have had since i was grown..
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