Me Mom and Dad
1948
Earliest Memories
I was three, I don't remember the house but I remember vividly the porch, the driveway, the basement.
How can people carry memories so clearly from over seventy years ago? I was walking down the steps and tripped, as I fell forward my hand hit a piece of board with a nail laying upward on the sidewalk. It was horrible, the blood, the sight, there was the tip of that nail sticking out the top of my hand, it had went all the way through. My mother's attempt at pulling it out only brought on screams of terror. The police were called, I will never forget the face and voice of that policeman that day. His voice was so soothing, I was going to be ok, he was going to fix it. As my mom distracted me he pulled the board out, I remember thinking it didn't hurt at all. He whisked us in the back seat of the police car and drove us to the hospital.
Wasn't too much later I was whipping down the driveway on my tricycle and tipped sideways, fell through the basement window and right on a stack of old mattresses piled on the floor. Quite a tumble for a three year old but didn't have a scratch on me. In the old houses in Detroit they had these big basement windows, today they have been replaced by the block windows, I'm sure I wasn't the only child to have an 'accident' with a basement window.
It was 1951, there was lead in the paint chips, no floride in the water, etc., but there were many accidents just lurking around the corner. I was helping my mom do laundry with her wringer washer, she had this big stick she used to move the clothes around and pick them up out of the hot water, as she put them through the wringer they would fall into the tub of rinse water on the other side. I would take them out and put them back through the wringer and she would put them in the basket.
Well one day I didn't let go of the towel and it took my little arm through the wringer all the way up to my shoulder. Before my mom could get around to the side the safety had already snapped and released the wringer. I still remember the sound of that snap, I thought for sure my arm was gone, but no, it has lasted well these past 70 plus years.
It wasn't just the traumatic things I can recall there were lots of good memories too. The hot summer heat and the City of Detroit turning on the fire hydrants so we could cool off.
Waiting for Santa
Estral Beach
I was four when we moved to the 'the beach' on Lake Erie in Monroe County, it had flooded earlier that year and many of the people were selling out.
The Sovey's Hotel 1952
Dad got the house cheap and began fixing it up. He was quite the woodworker. I still have two bunny book ends he made in the seventh grade. After he had fixed up the inside of the house he started on his 'white picket fence' with me helping as much as a four year old could, handing him nails, tools, getting him water. It was a fine white picket fence when he was done.
Easter 1954
Diane Cupper Jerry Me
In our fine Easter outfits. Diane and me had some fine Easter Bonnets but as we crossed the bridge to catch the church bus they both blew off in the canal.
My dad was a hard working man his entire life, he was an over the road truckdriver and would be gone for days at a time. It was a lot on my mother, after we moved to the beach in 52 she added four more to the brood, Floyd and Mike were just a year apart and I tried to help as much as I could, probably not much help from a 7-8 year old but I tried. There were two rocking chairs, one was my moms the other was mine. Spent many an hour rocking the babies while she cleaned, cooked, painted, fixed the plumbing, etc.
In the summer it wasn't too bad, we had a well and 50 gallon drums would catch the rain from the eaves for our baths, if it didn't rain for a long time it was off to the lake with a bar of soap. But in the winter it was awful. We had a cistern and the water truck would come fill it up in the fall but I don't think no matter how hard she tried to conserve it we always ran out of water.
In 1950s Roman Cleanser came in these brown gallon jugs, after they were empty my mom would wash them out and my dad would stop at Elizabeth Park on the way home and fill them with water. When I picked up that jug, sure it was water, didn't take long to know it wasn't. I don't remember if there were any after affects but I'm pretty sure I didn't swallow any, spit it out pretty fast. Maybe that's why they quit putting roman cleanser in those fancy bottles.
Little Brown Jug
The winters were harsh but the summers made up for it. Morning til dark we were outside playing. Our neighbors were friends of my dads and they had kids the same age as us, played many baseball games, Simons against Wesners, listening to Harvey Kuenn, Jim Bunning, and Paul Foytack. Mom loved her Tigers and her Red Wings. I don't think she ever missed listening or watching a game.
To Be Continued.
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