I'll start with a timeline. My intention is to provide a window back in time for my family.
I was born July 29, 1945, in Seattle, Washington. My parents were actually living in Pueblo, Colorado but were visiting Seattle. My dad was in the Army and was sent to Seattle for a 6 week course of some kind. My mother's dad and step mother (Viola) lived in Seattle, so she went along on the trip and stayed with them. Two weeks before I was born, Mom's father (George Allen) died in his sleep. He laid down for an afternoon nap and didn't wake up. Her mother had died several years earlier, so both of my maternal grandparents were gone before I was born. She never mentioned it, but it has occurred to me rather late that losing her father and giving birth to her first born within 2 weeks must have been trying.
We lived in Pueblo until I was 6 months old. I have no memories of it other than a driveby of our house on some trip through Colorado during high school. It was a very small crackerbox of a house. I know from baby photos that we had a Boston Terrier who was very cute. I never heard what happened to him, and as my early memories start around age 3, he was no longer in the picture. In Pueblo, my dad was an airplane mechanic for the Army Air Corps. Mom was staying home with me although she had worked at my Uncle Irving's Forget Me Not Flower Shop in Bremerton, Washington all through the war. She mentioned once that it was a difficult adjustment to being a stay at home wife and mother after her years of working. She and my dad apparently had a little bit of a rough adjustment in that regard when he came home from the war.
The story I remember is that Daddy was transferred to a post or airbase near Chicago, and we got on a plane to fly there. When we landed, he was given orders sending him to Boise instead; so we didn't stay in Chicago other than maybe overnight. In Boise, he was an Army recruiter; so I think that his Seattle training may have been related to moving up from mechanic to recruiter. When we left Boise 5 years later, he was a Master Sargeant; but I don't remember anything about his promotions.
Linda was born November 29, 1946. Daddy's mom moved to Boise (from Yakima) to be near us. His dad had died of alcoholism some years before, and she had yet to re-marry. The first house I remember was on Shoshone Lane, and this is where our earliest moving pictures of our family were taken. I think that's the house we lived in when Linda was born, although I certainly don't remember her birth. Then we moved to a small house nearby and didn't stay long. Mom said that they always felt uncomfortable there - as if someone had died violently or something. So they bought the house on Rose Hill Lane which is near the train depot. I was able to drive straight to the Rose Hill Lane house when Ron and I drove through Boise in the 1990's. I have quite a few memories of that house, but one of the first that always comes to me is seeing President Truman on the back of a train at the depot. He was clearly on his whistle-stop tour in 1948. When I was 5, we got our dog Feather - a blonde cocker spaniel that was my buddy for years to come. She was a present under the Christmas tree. And shortly afterward, daddy was transferred first to Camp Roberts and then to Camp Cook (now Vandenberg AFB) in California (1950).
We lived in Paso Robles, and I went to kindergarten. At the end of the school year, we moved to Solvang where I had my 6th birthday. July 29, 1951. On September 14, 1973, Christopher celebrated his 6th birthday in Solvang. But there are many stops on the timeline in between! We lived in a small apartment complex just down the street from the old downtown windmill, and I got a green bicycle for my birthday. Mom and Daddy built a house in San Luis Obispo where we moved in time for my first grade school year. Then Daddy was sent to Japan. He was now doing Army Public Relations (Korean War) and was expected to be stationed there for two or three years. We proceeded to get all the required innoculations so we could follow him and live there. But before we could go, Daddy was sent home with a serious medical condition. He had orders to go to the Naval Hospital at Hot Springs, Arkansas.
I was born July 29, 1945, in Seattle, Washington. My parents were actually living in Pueblo, Colorado but were visiting Seattle. My dad was in the Army and was sent to Seattle for a 6 week course of some kind. My mother's dad and step mother (Viola) lived in Seattle, so she went along on the trip and stayed with them. Two weeks before I was born, Mom's father (George Allen) died in his sleep. He laid down for an afternoon nap and didn't wake up. Her mother had died several years earlier, so both of my maternal grandparents were gone before I was born. She never mentioned it, but it has occurred to me rather late that losing her father and giving birth to her first born within 2 weeks must have been trying.
We lived in Pueblo until I was 6 months old. I have no memories of it other than a driveby of our house on some trip through Colorado during high school. It was a very small crackerbox of a house. I know from baby photos that we had a Boston Terrier who was very cute. I never heard what happened to him, and as my early memories start around age 3, he was no longer in the picture. In Pueblo, my dad was an airplane mechanic for the Army Air Corps. Mom was staying home with me although she had worked at my Uncle Irving's Forget Me Not Flower Shop in Bremerton, Washington all through the war. She mentioned once that it was a difficult adjustment to being a stay at home wife and mother after her years of working. She and my dad apparently had a little bit of a rough adjustment in that regard when he came home from the war.
The story I remember is that Daddy was transferred to a post or airbase near Chicago, and we got on a plane to fly there. When we landed, he was given orders sending him to Boise instead; so we didn't stay in Chicago other than maybe overnight. In Boise, he was an Army recruiter; so I think that his Seattle training may have been related to moving up from mechanic to recruiter. When we left Boise 5 years later, he was a Master Sargeant; but I don't remember anything about his promotions.
Linda was born November 29, 1946. Daddy's mom moved to Boise (from Yakima) to be near us. His dad had died of alcoholism some years before, and she had yet to re-marry. The first house I remember was on Shoshone Lane, and this is where our earliest moving pictures of our family were taken. I think that's the house we lived in when Linda was born, although I certainly don't remember her birth. Then we moved to a small house nearby and didn't stay long. Mom said that they always felt uncomfortable there - as if someone had died violently or something. So they bought the house on Rose Hill Lane which is near the train depot. I was able to drive straight to the Rose Hill Lane house when Ron and I drove through Boise in the 1990's. I have quite a few memories of that house, but one of the first that always comes to me is seeing President Truman on the back of a train at the depot. He was clearly on his whistle-stop tour in 1948. When I was 5, we got our dog Feather - a blonde cocker spaniel that was my buddy for years to come. She was a present under the Christmas tree. And shortly afterward, daddy was transferred first to Camp Roberts and then to Camp Cook (now Vandenberg AFB) in California (1950).
We lived in Paso Robles, and I went to kindergarten. At the end of the school year, we moved to Solvang where I had my 6th birthday. July 29, 1951. On September 14, 1973, Christopher celebrated his 6th birthday in Solvang. But there are many stops on the timeline in between! We lived in a small apartment complex just down the street from the old downtown windmill, and I got a green bicycle for my birthday. Mom and Daddy built a house in San Luis Obispo where we moved in time for my first grade school year. Then Daddy was sent to Japan. He was now doing Army Public Relations (Korean War) and was expected to be stationed there for two or three years. We proceeded to get all the required innoculations so we could follow him and live there. But before we could go, Daddy was sent home with a serious medical condition. He had orders to go to the Naval Hospital at Hot Springs, Arkansas.
Driving across country to Hot Springs, Mom and Daddy had an unforgettable conversation with me and Linda about bigotry and racism and segregation. They were very concerned about our being exposed to Southern culture. My mother had grown up with a continual re-enactment of the Civil War because her mother (Mary Coffin) was from upstate New York and her dad (George Allen) was from North Carolina. She had come down on the side of her mother; and my dad also had very strong views about the evils of racism although I don't know where his views originated. In any case, that conversation was an indelible experience that has colored my world view and political leanings ever since.
7th birthday in Hot Springs. Second grade. Almost certainly went to school with Bill Clinton. He was in Linda's class and was in Hot Springs for the first grade. And I remember a boy in Linda's class who was lots of fun and always stood out. Linda and I walked home from our segregated school with kids telling us that we should cross the street if we came across any black people on the way. (Not what they were called, of course!) We were told that they all carry knives. Thanks to the racial and religious tolerance we were taught at home, we didn't buy in! I had my tonsils out and still remember the smell of ether. Spent the night in the hospital by myself - listening to Red Skelton on the radio. Daddy was given a 100% medical disability retirement from the Army and we started out travelling west to decide where we would live. We stopped in Pecos, Texas where there was a children's clothing store for sale. My mother looked into buying it as she expected to be our family breadwinner from then on. After about 6 weeks in a motel, it was decided that this wasn't the right business to buy; so we got in the car and moved on. When we got to Carlsbad, New Mexico, Daddy was too sick to go on. So the decision was made that this would be our new home.
In Carlsbad, Mom opened her own dress shop for teens across the street from the high school. It was called Lansing's Deb Shop. Daddy did the bookkeeping for her. Linda and I entertained ourselves endlessly wading in the irrigation ditch across the street at the high school and playing in the park just down the street. Daddy gradually began to feel better and went to work selling life insurance for Prudential. After a couple years in a duplex on Edwards Street, we built a new home near the river (Pecos). One of the families who had also lived on Edwards Street - the Atkinsons - built a new house across the street from us so we had the same friends at both places. Down the street was Kenny Hanson whom I considered my first boyfriend. We regularly walked the block or so to the river to swim and play in the summer. We were all in grade school, but we had no adult supervision and nobody worried about us drowning. It's not that parents were negligent in those days; somehow kids were just expected to be independent and to survive! And we did. I didn't know any kids who died of neglect although such lack of oversight is inconceivable today. The principal, Ms. Padgett, was my 3rd grade teacher. The class that had the most impact on me was 6th grade with Ms Nielsen. They brought together a dozen of the highest performing kids in our grade and put us in the library for special attention. We studied Greek mythology and many other classics that we studied at our own pace. We participated in running the school library, so we learned a little library science. We had all kinds of science projects. She took us home to watch the World Series on tv - which was a fairly new experience for everyone at that time. I'm sure she thought of it as cultural enrichment; and it was! I never needed to watch another World Series game until the Diamondbacks won the World Series some 50 years later.
I was in the 2nd half of 2nd grade when we arrived in Carlsbad. My teacher was Miss Beck and she spent quite a lot of time teaching us how to draw. Once while we were in Carlsbad, I remember Daddy getting very sick and almost dying. But mostly, he got better and enjoyed selling insurance. Mom's dress shop did pretty well too. But halfway through the 6th grade, Daddy decided that Alamogordo would have a more promising economic climate because of Holloman Air Force Base. So we moved in the middle of the year, and I made new friends again. By this time, it came pretty naturally. My best friend, Jane Nelson, was in my 6th grade class, and remained my best friend through the first years of college. I don't remember ever being disturbed by the moving. It just seemed like a new adventure. Once or twice, I went back to Carlsbad to visit my friends; but I haven't been back since.
In Carlsbad, Mom opened her own dress shop for teens across the street from the high school. It was called Lansing's Deb Shop. Daddy did the bookkeeping for her. Linda and I entertained ourselves endlessly wading in the irrigation ditch across the street at the high school and playing in the park just down the street. Daddy gradually began to feel better and went to work selling life insurance for Prudential. After a couple years in a duplex on Edwards Street, we built a new home near the river (Pecos). One of the families who had also lived on Edwards Street - the Atkinsons - built a new house across the street from us so we had the same friends at both places. Down the street was Kenny Hanson whom I considered my first boyfriend. We regularly walked the block or so to the river to swim and play in the summer. We were all in grade school, but we had no adult supervision and nobody worried about us drowning. It's not that parents were negligent in those days; somehow kids were just expected to be independent and to survive! And we did. I didn't know any kids who died of neglect although such lack of oversight is inconceivable today. The principal, Ms. Padgett, was my 3rd grade teacher. The class that had the most impact on me was 6th grade with Ms Nielsen. They brought together a dozen of the highest performing kids in our grade and put us in the library for special attention. We studied Greek mythology and many other classics that we studied at our own pace. We participated in running the school library, so we learned a little library science. We had all kinds of science projects. She took us home to watch the World Series on tv - which was a fairly new experience for everyone at that time. I'm sure she thought of it as cultural enrichment; and it was! I never needed to watch another World Series game until the Diamondbacks won the World Series some 50 years later.
I was in the 2nd half of 2nd grade when we arrived in Carlsbad. My teacher was Miss Beck and she spent quite a lot of time teaching us how to draw. Once while we were in Carlsbad, I remember Daddy getting very sick and almost dying. But mostly, he got better and enjoyed selling insurance. Mom's dress shop did pretty well too. But halfway through the 6th grade, Daddy decided that Alamogordo would have a more promising economic climate because of Holloman Air Force Base. So we moved in the middle of the year, and I made new friends again. By this time, it came pretty naturally. My best friend, Jane Nelson, was in my 6th grade class, and remained my best friend through the first years of college. I don't remember ever being disturbed by the moving. It just seemed like a new adventure. Once or twice, I went back to Carlsbad to visit my friends; but I haven't been back since.
Mr Price was my 6th grade teacher and had an enormous influence on my life. He was very temperamental and out-spoken, so he kept us on our toes. One day he walked up and down the aisles telling us who he thought would go to college. He thought that most of the boys would go, but almost none of the girls. When he got to me, he conceded that I probably would go to college but he wasn't sure if I would graduate. I hadn't given it much thought before but in that moment, I made a do or die commitment to graduate from college. Thus when Christopher was born at the beginning of my senior year at ASU, I kept on going. Thanks, Mr. Price!
After living in a rental house when we first moved to Alamogordo, we bought a brand new Snow Home on Hubbard Drive which was up the foothills just a bit. There I learned to drive - starting with a Nash Metropolitan stick shift. Daddy took me out to the fairgrounds and let me drive all over the parking lot until I could shift and back up and park. I couldn't wait to get my license! I think I got my learner's permit the first possible day after turning 15 1/2 and got my license on my 16th birthday. But during that time daddy died. However, my memory of the sequence of events is pretty weird. I was definitely 15 when he died because it was October 1960. But somehow in the meantime, we had built a small duplex down on Florida Avenue and moved. I remember Mom saying later that he knew he wouldn't be around much longer and wanted us to have the income from the other side of the duplex. I remember his sleeping in a reclining chair toward the end and that it took him an immense amount of time to dress himself because of the pain. I also remember that there was a black school teacher in town (a rarity) who helped my dad with construction on the duplex. I overheard my parents talking about the flak daddy was taking for giving this man work. Imagine!
Daddy died in the Army hospital in El Paso after one of many long illnesses. We were in school when the principal called us each out of class to say that we were to go home immediately because daddy was dying. I don't remember the trip down to El Paso, but I do remember hanging around the hospital as we had so many times throughout our childhood. As he was dying, Mom stayed with him while Linda and I sat in a waiting room. Waiting. From the time he died, Mom and Linda and I were like the 3 Musketeers. We cried together and made plans together and broke all the holiday traditions for a couple years just so nothing would remind us too painfully of daddy. We went to a Mexican restaurant for Thanksgiving dinner the first year. The next summer, we went on vacation to California. First to Mission Beach in San Diego (how different it looked then compared to now!) and then up the coast to Santa Barbara. Mom drove and I navigated. We got completely lost on the freeways in LA but after a couple hours we got our bearings and finally pin-pointed a passing crossroad on the map. Rather than deciding that I wasn't good at navigating, I decided that I was quite good at it because of getting us back on track. I've been rather proud and stubborn about my navigation ever since. However, I swear I was born with a compass in my head. I just have a pretty good knack for knowing what direction I'm going and what direction I need to go.
We went to Santa Barbara on the northern leg of our vacation because Mom had re-connected with an old family friend from our Boise days (Clem Clark). He was daddy's commander there and had since retired. He was then Jury Commissioner for Santa Barbara County. He took us all around and then took Mom to dinner and asked her to marry him! She came back to our motel and told me and Linda all about it. She said she didn't love him but she felt that it was a good opportunity to avoid being dependent on us as we would soon be old enough to leave home. She gave Linda and I veto power and we chose Yes. It meant selling the duplex in Alamogordo and moving to Santa Barbara, of course. It meant leaving our friends behind. But we had already moved so many times that it just seemed like the start of another chapter. And it was! We started the next school year (my junior year) while the house was being sold, and by October we were on our way. I remember driving past Tucson, along Van Buren, out Grand Avenue through Phoenix, and hitting construction after Wickenburg as we drove into the sunset. Of course, Van Buren and Grand Avenue weren't recognizable streets to me then. Billy Looney was the son of another Boise family friend and neighbor. They were then living in Chama, NM, and we had visited them a couple times while daddy was still alive. Billy was my age and there was a little bit of interest between us. So he came to Alamogordo and helped us make the trip to Santa Barbara. I'm not sure what help we needed since we had made the trip on vacation, but he went with us.
I also don't remember when Mom and Clem bought the house in Hidden Valley, but it was all ready and waiting for us when we arrived. A beautiful new home in a beautiful location in Santa Barbara. We had to take the bus to Santa Barbara High School, and it wasn't walking distance to anything. But by then, Linda and I were driving everywhere. When we failed to make new friends at a new school for the first time in our lives, we just became friends with each other. A novel idea for sisters! Mom had a little Corvair Monza that we drove - and drove and drove while we investigated every street in our new home town. If we didn't have anything to do, we got in the car.
