Posted: November 18, 2007 in life
I have decided to use this blog and go through all the pain it takes to write an autobiography.  I just like many people I can’t remember ages one to five, but I will do my best to start at the beginning. I remember my parents showed me the house, where I was born when I was about four years old.  It was a two story walk-up with the bricks painted yellow. When I saw it the house set in the middle of a junkyard with a lot of old car parts and used tires. My mother told me, none of that stuff was there when they live their. She said used to have a large front lawn with a huge vegetable garden.  The house I remember living in was a red brick ranch house on a major street. I can only remember a couple of incidents that happened when we lived in that house.  One was when my two sisters and I had been left alone in the basement and my eldest sister snuck us out and put me in a wagon, and we went to a local drug store, where she stole a candy bar and snuck us all back in the house. When my mother came home.  I remember whining about not getting any of the candy that they had hidden on me at the drugstore.  So essentially I had snitched them off.  So when my mother found the candy bar.  She made us return to the drugstore and apologized to the manager. The only incident that I can remember from that time was when my mother had left me in the car to walk half a block down the hill to pay my babysitter. like all five-year-olds the first thing I did was to jump behind the steering wheel.  So I could pretend to drive.  I managed to release the emergency brake in the car backed out of the driveway and proceeded to roll down the street towards the babysitters house.  Luckily my mother was still quick on her feet at that time and was able to jump in the car and stop it.  Barely a couple of feet from crashing into her house. It wasn’t long after that.  My father had financial difficulties and we moved to a one-room shack in the country. He built two large rooms on that house with his own hands. We were poor, but we’ve never went hungry. When I think about it now.  That was probably the happiest time in my life.  The little shack sat on four acres of land, and we had an outhouse about 100 feet away. We also had an old-fashioned dugout to store food supplies, I was always afraid to go down there, because I thought they would be snakes. We had many chickens and pigs, and to mean watchdogs named Hercules and Reggie. My mother had a small vegetable garden, but we never planted any of the rest of the acres. We live on a farm for five years.  I rode the bus to kindergarten, which was several miles away. Then went through grades one through four, at the new Cherry Creek school complex, which encompassed first grade through high school. Frankly, I wish we could’ve stayed there.  I probably wouldn’t have a very different life. Just prior to graduation of the fourth grade.  My father’s financial situation had improved so much father sold the farm and moved to the big city, which was an absolute culture shock for me.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s