Tell about the houses you lived in childhood – addresses, phone #s, etc.
(on today’s slip of paper drawn from the jar)
Oh which house? Where to begin?
There was the house in the country near Ft. Bragg, North Carolina – big yard, garden. I was in first grade, and I remember this was our first house after living in Army housing, and my parents went back to their roots – growing vegetables, canning, freezing. I witnessed first hand what it means by ‘running around like a chicken with its head cut off’. My dad went to Korea while we lived there, my mom got a job, and my brother and I became latch-key kids. Once when we came home from school, the house had been broken into. My brother said he was going to call the sheriff. I thought he had lost his mind, they don’t have sheriffs any more – that is just on Gunsmoke – call the police! The TV dinner was popular at our house during this time, and my mom would save the aluminum comparted trays and refill them with home cooking for our own personal TV dinners.
Then the next house was a duplex in Army housing at Fort Rucker, Alabama. This was great fun, paved sidewalks for bike riding, lots of neighborhood kids to play with, warm weather, just 90 minutes from the beach at Panama City, Florida. We would walk from the school in a line down the sidewalk through the houses to the nearby playground or swimming pool. Once while walking single file a mom ran out to tell our 4th grade teacher about the assassination of President Kennedy. Also while living on the base, my mom became very good at bowling and even golf.
After leaving LA (lower Alabama) when my dad retired, we moved to the mountains of North Georgia. Our first house was just a little 4 room shack house without a bathroom. It was an adventure to say the least. My folks once again went back to nature and their roots, planting a garden, having chickens, and even a couple of calves. The little house served as a roof over our heads for a couple of years while my dad built us a new house. My brother was 5 years older than me, he listened to the Beatles and Roger Miller. While in the little house I joined many other young girls in watching the Monkees – ooohhh Davy Jones! By the time we got in the new house, my brother was out of high school and well on his way out of the house. The house had wonderful large windows – floor to ceiling – along with a beautiful front door and mantlepiece that had been salvaged from an old house torn down by my father.
As a military family, we moved around a lot and did not develop ties to any one place. The longest time I spent in any of our houses was about 5 years. There is no old homeplace to go back to visit, to pass down to the kids and grandkids. There are just places we stopped for a while before moving on to the next place. But it was always home where ever we were, a home with a family and a pet or two.
I feel fortunate to have married into the family I have now, everyone is so close. My husband and his sisters only ever lived in one house growing up, the one their dad built. The land we live on now has been in the family for over a half century, and plans are to pass it on for future generations.
