Of course! It was Friday, January 13, 1950 when I decided to make my move into the “light”. Unfortunately for my mom, and probably me, I wasn’t going to make it easy. Normally, babies are born head first. Occasionally, they are breech, or feet first. Not me! I was making my debut, butt first. Somehow, the doctors and nurses had to turn me so I could be born one of the more normal positions. What had started in the mid-afternoon on Friday, concluded at 10:10 the next morning, January 14th. I’m told it was quite “touch-and-go” for both my mom and me for a while.
Now, I was way too young to remember those first couple of years, but I kind of remember moving from the first place I called home on South Main Street to the house on Prospect Street. We said it was the place “up on the hill”. Now it wasn’t much of a hill, but that’s what it was called. I kind of remembering I didn’t like moving away from a friend that lived next door or maybe even in another part of the same house. But it wasn’t up to me.
The house up on the hill is where I can begin my story. I’m not sure when we, my dad, mom, and I arrived, but I know my brother and sister would join us during my third and fifth years. I was told I wasn’t very happy about the arrival of my brother because I quickly stated “We’re gonna have to do something about that!” when he cried shortly after his arrival. My sister’s arrival was uneventful except that she was premature at 7 months. She was very little and her crying didn’t even come close to that of my noisy brother’s. I guessed she could stay.
The house was a two-story dwelling with most of the top floor directly over the basement. It was like the house was pushed into the side of the hill with the upstairs mostly over the basement. There were three bedrooms on that floor, my mom and dad’s, my sister’s small room off of mom and dad’s, and my brother’s and mine. Between mom’s and my room was a large room that could easily be mistaken for a living room. It was seldom used. I remember one Christmas, the Christmas tree was in that room. Other than that, nothing else.
The downstairs is where we lived. The kitchen was flanked by the living room and the bathroom was actually in what can only be described as the basement. It was very dark and damp but the bathroom sink, toilet, and metal shower stall all occupied a small area just inside the basement. The clothes washer and dryer were also there. Three walls of the basement, those “stuck” in the hill, were made of rock and concrete. The fourth wall was a finished wall completing the side wall for the downstairs living room. There were no windows in the basement and only one light in the ceiling just as you entered. It supplied the light for the bathroom and laundry.
There were lots of memorable times in that house but the most important thing to mention relative to this blog is the yard. It was huge as far as backyards go. The yard was sloped downward for about 20 yards but then it leveled off and was nice and flat. That was where we had our small vegetable garden most years. Beyond that, was the grassy field. Dad mowed that “back forty” and we used it for baseball practice! That’s where I learned to catch and throw a baseball. There were times when dad pitched to me and I got to swing the bat. I remember dad using the yard as a practice area for golf a couple of times. He would try to chip the golf balls into a trash can we had in the yard. It was a great back yard! This was the beginning of a lifetime love!
