1399 W. Losey St
Although I have lived in North Carolina since 1996, my first memories of home belong to 1399 W Losey St, Galesburg, Illinois. A stucco bungalow, story and a half, with two bedrooms, hardwood floors, and a basement. The back yard was fenced, and the driveway was two narrow strips of concrete to drive the car on. We had moved into the house when I was between one and two years old. My brother was born a few months after my fourth birthday, so I was an only child for a bit over four years.
The next-door neighbors were Mary and Jim Anderson, about my grandparents’ age. They had no children, but developed a close relationship with me. Jim Anderson was a photographer,often photographed me. I’ve included a few of his photos here.
From age three until I started kindergarten, I would get up earlier than my mother and father and step barefoot through the dew-covered grass to visit Mary and Jim. They were always having breakfast in those early mornings, and faithfully kept the secret about my nightgowned, early-morning visits. I was welcomed in with warm cuddles on one lap or the other, and one of Mary’s big sugar cookies with a fat, juicy raisin in the middle. Then I would tiptoe back across the yards and get back in bed. I so loved those two!
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A dead-end street ran beside our property on the other side from the Andersons, and a girl just a bit older than me (named Linda) lived there. We often played together. Two other girls about our age lived down the dead-end street, and the four of us often played together with our baby dolls and carriages..
When I was five, I was a flower girl at the wedding of my Aunt Shirley. She married John Hurt (my Uncle Johnny). I LOVED being a flower girl. I was disappointed, though, that my five-year-old cousin, Judy, would not be a flower girl with me. She and her mom were unable to come to the wedding. Johnny was a Navy man and a photographer, and he took pictures of Cousin Judy and me. I have included one of me, and the all-time Family Favorite Photo. We never heard the end of this one!
My mother worked during the day, and my father worked at night. My father cared for my baby brother and me during the day. Because my dad and the baby were asleep a lot, I was lonely. I was happy to go to half-day kindergarten when I turned five. My mother taught me where the hands of the clock would be when I needed to be outside to ride with another child’s mother. Kindergarten was at the YMCA downtown.
One day, feeling especially lonely, I went across the street to the other Linda’s house and told her mother the heat at my house wasn’t working, and my daddy told me to go over to their house. It was totally made up so that I could play at their house. The whipping I got as punishment was worth it, I thought. Another time, I went across and down Losey St. to David’s house. He was in kindergarten with me. He was adopted, and an only child. His mother always did lots of activities with him, and the day I went there, we finger-painted! I don’t recall what tale I told that day to join the fun, but the consequences definitely didn’t spoil the memory!
The other Linda was both a blessing and a curse. It was great to have someone close to my age living right on the other side of the street, but she tended to be a bully, and I had not developed the ability to stand up for myself. One day, a disagreement led to her banging my head against the stucco on the side of the house. Another day, she convinced me that she had some colored water we could play with as pretend medicine. She climbed up to an upper kitchen cupboard to get the little bottle and painted me pretty much everywhere with the red liquid. It was Mercurochrome. We couldn’t wash it off. When I went crying to my mother, she explained it would not wash off, but would have to wear off. I was horrified! The next day was Sunday, and we always went to Mass. I cried at the thought of being “all red” at church.
My so-called friend, Linda, hit me often and with no provocation, and I did a great deal of whining to my mother about it. One afternoon, I went to the basement window on the driveway to seek sympathy through the screen from my mother, who was ironing below the window. Instead of empathizing with me, she told me that if I didn’t hit Linda, she, my mother, would hit me. I stood perfectly still in the driveway for quite some time, stunned by my desperate situation. A bit later, my mother received a phone call from the other Linda’s mother. She said, “I don’t know what’s gotten into your Linda, but she’s out in the backyard going at my Linda like a little windmill!” Both mothers were pleased that the longstanding problem appeared to be solved.
Continue to YAYA BOX HISTORY CHAPTER 1
I was trying to row my own boat even then!
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