My Life in Review – The Early Years

Eighty-five is a BIG number.  Now that I’m officially 85 years old, I thought I’d look back over my life to see what I’ve seen that was new to me and the world.  Or, just happenings that happened during my life.  Born in the summer of 1938, World War II was on the horizon.  I was about a year old when it started and, basically,   could not have been aware of the reasons for its start.

As a young child, however. I was allowed to accompany an older sister to movies.  Movies that always had news reels of the war’s happenings.  Airplanes dropping bombs on earth.  Screaming to earth to destroy buildings.  Human beings.  Anything in their path.  Propeller-driven airplanes.  Jets had not been developed at that point.  It would be more than forty years old before the sound of a propeller-driven airplane would not stop me in my tracks – waiting to hear the sound of falling bombs.  And, even today, one of those airplanes can get my attention, although the fear of being harmed does not follow.  The war ended in 1945.  I would have been seven years old or so; I don’t remember thinking that I knew enough to know that the war ended because of other bombs dropped on Japanese towns and peoples.

My family lived in a two-story brick house that, today, would have been called a Denver Square.  No basement.  No running water in the house; no bathroom.  Water was at the back stoop, and it froze in the winter.  My mother cooked on a wood stove; actually, she used coal because it maintained better heat.  It was the same for the only other heat, the pot-bellied stove in the front room.  We didn’t call them living rooms at that time.  It was the front room because it was the front room of the house.

My sister, Clara, and I slept in the room immediately above the front room.  According to Clara, Sisters #2 and #3 slept in another bed in the same room.  Even though some heat wafted up from the front room, it was cold, but our mother made quilts from our father’s old work pants, as well as other materials, so we slept warm.  I remember one time when Clara rode a tricycle down the stairs.  It is surprising that she did not injure herself.  Sister #1 had a bedroom all her own.  I don’t really remember much of this.

Someone in the state government decided to build a highway from Denver to the south, right through where our house sat.  That meant we had to move.  Housing was scarce – really scarce.  We first moved across the street into a house that had indoor plumbing.  A new experience for our family.  Unfortunately, that house was also in the path of the freeway, which meant another move.  The only house we could find was in a smaller town about forty miles to the west on the “other side” of the railroad track.  It had been moved to the town from a place called Ludlow, where a massacre had occurred many years before.  The fight was between the State militia and the coal miners.  The house had bullet holes from the occurrence.

I was in the fifth grade at that time.  My teacher always read from a classic story book after lunch; that was my first experience with The Secret Garden.  I loved it.  That may have been where my attachments to books began.  And, I loved the whole idea of owning a secret garden.  Then, we had to move, again.  This time to another town, about twenty miles further west.  I loved that house!  Once again, we had indoor plumbing.  The bathroom had a claw-foot bathtub, and the tank of the commode was high on the wall with a pull chain.

I think it was the first time ever that I understood the impact of not having money.  Before that, I was, apparently, oblivious to what it took to raise a family.  However, when my mother had to search the house to find seven cents so that I could buy a packet of paper for school, I began to realize the difficulty of living without money.  Christmas came, and my one present was a ceramic male lion.  A lion that traveled with me the rest of my life, until Daughter #1 assumed its care.  So, I know it is in good hands.

From that wonderful house, we moved into a converted garage.  One side was the living, kitchen, and dining area.  The other side held our beds.  By this time, my first niece was also living with us; it was not long before two nieces were with us.  At least, the garage/house had water and a partial bathroom in it.

We had a terrier dog.  I remember playing with it, some of the time.  I don’t remember really taking care of it.  One day, it simply disappeared.  When I asked my mother where he was, she explained, and I realized just how cruel my father could be.

We moved from there to a house on East 13th.  Another first for me was living in a house that had cockroaches!  It was years before, as an adult, I could allow furniture in my house made of wicker, since the roaches seemed to have taken up residence in the wicker clothes hamper!  Except for those bugs, the house was great.  By now, I was in junior high – eighth grade.  And, then, the final move was to a small house on East 12th Street.  It wasn’t wonderful, but it was ours.  The first house my family had ever owned.  I slept with Clara in a tiny (really TINY) bedroom at the back of the house; it was barely big enough for a double bed.  In the beginning, our mother and father slept in the basement, accessed only lifting an outside door and climbing down a set of steps.

I was in high school.  My life consisted of going to school, going to work, and going home to study.  I knew that I wanted to be a teacher.  On a fishing trip with our parents, I saw a country school with a teacherage in Lake County.  That was where I wanted to teach.  I wanted to be a country school teacher.

I also knew that I would need money to go to college, so it was imperative that my grades were worthy of getting grants and/or scholarships to go to school.  At one time, my father told me that I, probably, wouldn’t be able to go to college because my name was Bundy.  I never understood why my last name had anything to do with it, but I do remember thinking – watch me!  I had great mentors during high school.  I worked at the public library, as well as the school library.  Both librarians were great, helping me get financial assistance for college.  And, so I went to college – Western State College in Gunnison, Colorado.  Where I met another student who would become my husband.

But, that is a story for another time.  I graduated after three years because I attended school in the summer, as well as fall, winter, and spring.  And, I did become a country school teacher – perhaps, one of the last in Colorado.  I had eight grades the first year and six, the second.

At the close of this blog, I was, maybe, twenty-two years old – with two children.  I’ll tell you more of this story at a later date.

I hope your Independence Day holiday was fun and safe!

Be Safe and Be Well.

The Cranky Crone

Thoughtful comments are appreciated.