Since some seemed interested. Absolutely nothing political here.Posted Tuesday, January 24, 2012, at 7:36 PM
I was born in 1950 in Salt Lake City. My first real memories were in 1955 or so. It was in the first house I remember. It was here I got my first whipping with a metal coat hanger, experienced my first major flood, and being abandoned by my father.
It's still there.
After that I lived more places than I can remember, but a few stand out.
El Cajon, Ca. 2 adults and 3 kids in a 15' travel trailer and the retired couple that wanted to adopt me.
Late 1959 or 1960, San Jose, Ca. Just down the 101 from Mike of all people.
I can't believe that house is still standing. It was OLD when I lived there. That 2nd story window was my room. That was where I would take aim at speeding cars with my slingshot and modeling clay. This was a house the local police knew all too well, because my step-father would get drunk and beat the crap out of my Mother. This is also where I had my first 2 jobs. Delivering the afternoon paper, and working for our landlord in his pharmacy.
I think it's the old arched doorway I think.
While living there, I experienced many other things, many not so nice. I got the crap beat out of me for sticking up for my friends who were called most of the names I listed in another blog. It was also here, that when I got to Jr. High, I had my sorry butt saved by Carlos, leader of the local gang who remembered me. Across the street from the pharmacy was the Jr. High, where I was in swimming class the day JFK was killed.
Fast forward to 1968. 2 months short of my 18th birthday I HAD to get married. Those of you my age know what I mean. Back in those days, it also meant getting kicked out of school. On my 18th birthday I was invited to find a home for me and my bride. I took any and every kind of job I could just to get by. Fast food, busboy, dishwasher, gas jockey. You name it.
I'm going to leave off here and pick up circa 1972 in another blog.
Don't feel sorry for me, because I don't. Life is a series of adventures.
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Thoughts from an old progressive
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Almost 65 and retired. Raised by an East Coast liberal. I am also a child of the sixties.
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