My parents tell me that we lived in a rented house on Baldwin Avenue in Rosemead, CA until I was around 18 months old. Of course I have no recollection of this so I'm not sure why I think my own children should remember the first places THEY lived... just because I do. Thank goodness for pictures. Here are a couple of me and my sister Carol both inside and outside of that house I am told that we lived in.
So for all intents and purposes, my first and only childhood home was on Lawnwood Street in LaPuente, California. A one level, three bedroom, one and a half bath little slice of heaven for my parents... and for me and my sisters, the center of the universe. Of course I've moved up and down in the world and had exactly eighteen other centers of the universe since then. But that's another blog... or eighteen. 
Since the home we bought was brand new we were pretty much starting from scratch and so my dad, of course, had to whip the yard into shape.
I just love these memories of my dad! I only wish I could remember them...
Here's a picture taken of me while the grass was seeding...
Nothing but mud...
And another one once the lawn (and lampost) were in... I loved trying to climb that lampost, it was as tall as the Washington Monument to me!
Finally... a virtual oasis...
Anyway... a complete pictorial tour of my house could probably go on for ever so I'll just give you the quicky version.
Our kitchen tabletop looked pretty much like this... with a vinyl wrap around seating booth for eating... which is pretty much the only place we ever ate... or ever did anything. So I'm completely surprised that I don't have a real picture.
The kitchen floor was dark red with multicolored confetti-like speckles in it. It must have hid all the dirt for sure! I never realized at the time how very cool it all was.
And keeping within the bounds of the overall color scheme, our living room decor was just as tasteful...
**Note the tasteful way of positioning the feet for photoshoots... because, yes, we DID attend "Charm School." We even learned how to hold our umbrellas properly... it was important.
I digress...
But seriously... I loved my home. It was a haven for me and it was everything a child could have ever thought they wanted or needed. In fact I wish, if it were at all possible, to be able to back there someday and do a "walkthrough." Even though I did do a "driveby" about twenty years ago and well, the neighborhood is now pretty, extremely scary...
Isn't it funny how everything in life manages to change around us but our memories always remain the same?
I forgot to show you my old bedroom... with the lovely chenile bedspread and awesome wraparound overhead cabinets and bulletin board.
...or my backyard. Believe it or not, I had a lot of fun out there! And over the years it proved to be the backdrop for a ton of priceless photo ops.
1 comment:
It was with interest that I came across your blog, as my husband and I were just lamenting last night about how the future generations will know about their personal past....i.e. there will be only a rare letter to be had, seeing everything is now emailed, and hard copy of photographs seems to be going the way of the dinosaurs too. I treasure photos and memories of my past too, and hope this generation and the ones to follow see its importance before it is too late.
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