About a week ago I received a telephone call from my mom's doctor in Michigan. She requested a family meeting in Michigan to discuss my mom's rapidly progressing dementia and the beginning of the onset of Alzheimer. My mom is forgetting to take her medicine and sometimes even eat. The doctor thinks it's time to get someone to visit her daily to make sure she takes her meds and prepare her a meal or two. My brother and I will be flying there probably next week.
That call brought back many memories, so last Sunday I
posted a story about the years after my mom and dad were divorced until 1963 when my mom sent me to live with my dad in New York. I decided that today I'd relive a few more memories of my childhood and repost a
story from last year about some carefree days when I was seven.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I lived in Florida from about the age of 4 1/2 until half way through the 9th grade in 1963. My father was a lineman by trade and my mother was a housewife. When the work got scare for my father in one place, we'd move to where ever he could find work. My mom told me that sometimes my father would come home on a Friday tell her to pack. We had to move right away and be in a new place on Sunday, so he could start a new job Monday morning.
I remember living in these places; St. Petersburg, Clearwater, Boynton Beach, Starke, Hypoluxo, Jacksonville. I'm sure there were more, but that's all I can remember. We lived in three different places in Jacksonville alone.
In 1955 we moved from St. Petersburg to Clearwater. Here we are doing what we did practically every weekend, fishing. We didn't have very much, but one thing my father made sure of, was that we always had a boat.
In Clearwater, we lived in an apartment above the garage behind our landlords house. I loved that place. The house was across the street from a park with a playground. The best part about living there was sliding down the banister of the stairs that went up to the apartment.
These are my father's parents. If you guessed they are Polish, your right. This shot of us was taken on Christmas Eve in 1955. We always opened our gift on Christmas Eve.
My grand parents lived near us no matter where we moved. We'd move and not long after that they moved too. My father had a 'love/hate' relationship with my grand father. Every once in a while they would have a big argument, and my grand parents would move away. But it wasn't very long before they'd move back near us again. I loved having them around so much. My cousin John from Pennsylvania told me that he almost never saw our grand parents, so I guess I was lucky.
I carried that air rifle around with me everywhere and almost never took off that holster.
I think my grandfather loved fishing as much as my father did. I remember the day they brought this tarpon home. It was the biggest fish I seen up to that point. All the neighbors came over to take a look at it.
"I love you mommy."
This shot was taken during Christmas 1956. Miraculously, we still lived in the same apartment. I really have a lot of great memories of living here. Like the time in third grade I was arrested for breaking and entering. Well, not arrested exactly, but my friend and I were taken out of school by the police and reprimanded to our parents custody.
But that's story for another day.
Happy HNT Y'all!
