Home Sweet Home



For our family, a new baby meant a new home. When my twin and I were three our house went up for sale. The doctor had advised a move because we were so close to the river. He thought the dampness was bad for my Dad’s asthma. So once again we moved. It was there that we waited for the birth of Marie, number five.


The move I most remembered was from North Boulevard to Sherwood Street. Steve, second youngest, was a baby. The decision to move was sudden. A man in my dad’s office was moving to another town, and his house was up for sale. It was modest and in a nice neighborhood. The yard was already landscaped and full of pine trees, a large oak tree and a magnolia tree. Unlike the others, this one did not need painting. With only a month to pack, Mom was on a mission to discard the junk collected over time. Some things were hard to let go.

Moving day was getting closer and Mom was hoping to make it as easy as possible. Little by little things was stored in the new house. The curtains were hung. The cabinets were ready, lined with paper. The linens and clothes were arranged neatly and the lamps placed where Mom had envisioned. Dad was planning on renting an U-Haul to move the remaining things. He was sure he could handle everything but the refrigerator, stove and washer. A friend of the family, Donald, promised to come the night before we move. As I recall, he was a short, wiry man who was always ready to lend a hand. Being an electrician, he was going to hook up the appliances. He arrived as planned and each appliance left on separate loads because his trailer was small.

With this accomplished, Donald suggested a few more heavy pieces be transported so Dad would not have to wrestle with them alone in the morning. After each load, he decided we should take another. He gave the older ones a ride on the trailer with the furniture and Dad. I remember Donald giving orders. "We’ll have room for that chair on this load, grab it Bill." Finally the only thing left in the house was Steve sleeping in the crib. The crib was down and the door was shut.
By late evening, we were in our new home and the washer was already in operation. Donald was smiling and pleased with himself. Mom and Dad sat paralyzed and bewildered. Their goal was to move in a slow and easy manner. When he was ready to leave, he said "Now if you need me for anything-just holler." A weak response, "Yep," was heard.

Remodeling was as natural to Mom and Dad as moving. Each room in the house was like a canvas in which Mom could express her creative ideas. The sudden urge to change the dining room became overwhelming. It was set for a make over. A trip was made to Sears and the paint was selected. As the paint went on, Mom became more excited over the thought of redecorating. Meanwhile, Steve and Chris were fast painting murals on the wall, delighting in their handiwork. Mom and Dad viewed their work of art with "We should have known." What really threw Dad into a state of shock was when he climbed down from the ladder to remove the spilled paint from the base board. Steve couldn’t resist the temptation to climb. The screams brought Mom running. On the top of the ladder, was a freckled face Steve saying: "I’m sorry Daddy." Steve knocked the paint bucket right on top of Dad.

Dad sat beneath the ladder, staring into space, dripping with paint. Mom waved her hand back and forth in front of his face but no contact. He’s flipped this time for sure. Mom kept saying, "Bill . . . Bill . . . Bill . . . , are you all right?" Gathering around Dad, Larry suggested washing his face so he could breathe better. With a towel in hand, Dad wiped his face and left the room. The room did get painted.

As the day unfolded, we were back to being our normal selves. In the living room, the portable record player was playing to the new rock and roll hit tune of the week. The little ones danced the shag. Mom didn’t share our love for this type of music but she was immune to it. Dad never complained. With seven children, he learned to cope.

When school started, morning rush presented a problem. The school bus stopped directly in front of our house around at 7: 30 A.M. Dad also left for work at that hour. That meant five had to be ready by 7: 30 and we had one bathroom. The sink was beside the in-swing door and it was an easy way to be knocked down. Tempers would fly. Mom came up with a solution by attaching to the door a card on a string. Using a crayon, one side was colored green and the other side red. We would flip the card red when going in and green when coming out Mom’s originality solved a lot of bathroom accidents.

Mom was unable though to find a solution for getting rid of the popsicle man. He made his round once a day. We could hear his bell ring from blocks away. As fast as we could, we would run home to ask permission to buy a popsicle. Then down the corner we would run, sit and wait, contemplating what special popsicle flavor we would choose today.

At the end of the day amidst the confusion, there is still a sense of peace-it’s home.