As I stated in his first post,
once weekly I plan to feature a guest writer, my husband. He has
been painstakingly writing down the stories of his childhood to share
them with his
9 year old niece. I wanted her to know what kind of childhood her
beloved Uncle was able to enjoy. While enjoying them myself I thought these are so much fun to
read, why not share them? So here are the short missives of his memories
of growing up in wilds of Florida during the 1950's and 1960's. They're
packed with misadventures, romance, and all the confusing things that can
happen in our youth. Even though his hometown of Jacksonville is a big city with over a
million residents now, during his childhood it was several small
communities surrounded by countryside.
This is his story.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
11935 Cornelius Street
by Steven R. Hudson
Our house in Center Park, like most Florida homes then, was concrete
block with three small bedrooms and one bath. Linoleum covered the
floors throughout and the walls were rough textured plaster that
"sweated" when the seasons changed. There were no trees in our yard
which appeared barren except for the plugs of St. Augustine grass that
gave a strange polka dot effect. It rained every afternoon in those
times, or it seemed so, and the little plugs of grass sent out their
"tentacles" and quickly produced a carpet of green, broken only by
patches of white flowered clover. There was a large vacant lot behind
the house with an ancient Long-leaf Pine on the lot's east side. We had
no air conditioner to counter summer's heat but winter was made bearable
by an oil fired space heater. I remember how happy we were to have our
own home. Life was good.
I turned six that spring and started first grade at
Southside Elementary, a school that is still part of the county school
system. I caught school bus # 73
each school day, Mrs. Dent driving. My
teacher, Mrs. Grady, told us that we needed to memorize our addresses
and telephone numbers and to this day, I still remember them. 11935
Cornelius St. and 724-2426 or RAymond 42426 as the telephone numbers
were always proceeded by the name of the exchange back then, R and A
being 7 and 2 on the dial, no touchtone either. I enjoyed school,
especially the days when we had art class. I loved to draw and my
teacher recognized that I had some natural talent as even at that age I
drew three dimensional figures and had an understanding of perspective.
She told my mother that I should get training but we were poor and that
would never happen. I was always given drawing supplies at home however,
sometimes I would spend an entire evening drawing, mostly dinosaurs, my
favorite.
That same year a family from Chattanooga, Tennessee, moved
into the house directly behind ours and across from the vacant lot. Gene
and Irma Mealer and their two sons, Ray and Jackie. Gene Mealer was a
commercial artist and a good one. Ray and I were the same age and his
brother Jackie only one year younger. We became fast friends and would
remain so for many years. Our parents became friends also, especially
our mothers who, to this day, are still in contact.
There was a Mexican family, the Lopez's that lived a
few houses down. They had a son my age named Roberto but we all called
him Robert. I was amazed that he and his siblings could speak another
language as easily as they spoke English. Robert had three sisters and
three brothers, his oldest sister was already married and his oldest
brother was in high school which I thought really cool. I remember his
mother being a very kindly woman who loved children and was always
inviting the neighborhood kids in for homemade cake and a glass of cold
milk.
There were other friends that came and went as
families moved in and then moved elsewhere. Many of the names I still
recollect, Rick Martin, Bobby Fann, Peanut (I never knew his real name),
and Bret and others I can't remember.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Nice memory!
ReplyDeleteWonderful memories....and how interesting to note that you still remember the address and phone number.
ReplyDeleteLovely memories....
I always enjoy the stories of "way back when". My husband also tells our grandson about how it was when he was a little boy. I've wanted him to write them down. It's good that your husband is doing that.
ReplyDeleteThank you for visiting my blog today and for the kind words.
I love your bike.
What wonderful memories. Hope all went well today. Blessings
ReplyDeleteHow I love the details and similarities to my childhood. I can remember phone #'s from way back, just not mine now!
ReplyDeleteI've been praying for you today, especially.