July 22, 2005

  • N.Z. time


    Saturday, 23rd  July, 2005


    12:30 p.m.


     


     


    I was born in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma in 1935. My Dad was 20 years old and my Mom was 18 when she conceived and discovered I was on the way. In 1935 it was not cool for an 18 year old unmarried girl to get pregnant and have a baby. Abortion was illegal so she tried several different methods to abort, but fortunately for me, none of them worked. So my mom and Dad got married and on the 15th day of October, I got born.


     


    Those early years are a bit foggy for me now but from what I’ve been told there wasn’t much work to be found in Oklahoma in the late 30’s, so my Mom left me with my Dad and my two Grandmothers and she headed for California to find a job and a new life.  I don’t know how old I was when my Mom headed west but my Dad told me when I was 2 years old, he took me to California in the rumble seat of a “model A” Ford. It was a little roadster so he could change my diapers right from the front seat without even getting out of the car.   He said he’d just lean back, put on a clean diaper and throw the old soiled one out along side the road.  I’ve occasionally thought that somewhere along route 66, between Oklahoma City and L.A. there must be half a dozen spots that once played host to my old discarded diapers.


     


    Some how, my  mom, and her mom, along with my mother’s cousin, Mark Warren, all wound up living together in a small apartment. My mom got a job as a waitress and my uncle Mark picked up a job as a construction laborer. In those days even a laborer wore a suit and tie to apply for work. It was 1937 and they were just starting to build the Los Angeles Union Station. So my uncle lined up with all the other men hoping to find work. The foreman of the job dismissed them all, saying he didn’t need any more workers. But my uncle Mark was so broke he determined he’d get hired that day, so he went over to the tool shed, took off his suit coat and tie, rolled up his sleeves, picked up a shovel and started shoveling wet concrete right along with the rest of working men. Around 3 hours later, the foreman walked up to my uncle with a pencil and a pad and said, “Ok, Ok, if you’re going to work for me I’m gonna have to pay you, so what’s your name?”


     


    Meanwhile that same day, my Mom not having enough money to buy food for dinner, took uncle Mark’s other suit to a pawn shop and exchanged it for some food money. After dinner that evening my uncle went to get dressed up so he could take my Mom out and celebrate his new found job. When he couldn’t find his other suit he called out from his bedroom, “Hey Sally, where’s my other suit?”  And my Mom hollered back, “We just ate it.”


     


     


    It’s a long story to be continued….


     


    I’ll be back  …… (Maybe)


     


    B Mc G