Haunts of Yesteryear

Have you lived in one or two places most of your life? Or have you lived in many homes and communities? Later in life I have been slow to move. Here for 7+ years. Previous home for 20, and the one before that 23 years. Before that, however, many homes. Where to start?

At the beginning would be good. Hospital of birth in Pasadena, California, but the family home was in Altadena. We lived there several years. When I was 2 and a half, we moved to the middle of the Mojave desert near the town of InyoKern. Dad worked on the Navy base nearby, an ordnance testing site, and after the war, a storage site for inactive tanks, jeeps and troop carriers.

Although very young some memories are vivid. Hailstorm on the desert that led to short term flooding. Snow once that transfixed us. A sandstorm (or four!) that took the paint off our car and turned its windshield opaque. Also, family meanderings in the desert to explore for desert diamonds (quartz crystals), quiet serene and lonely locations where the sound of silence was an oppressive pressure on the ears as we strained to hear something, anything. Deep blue skies and light beige sand were a common companion on these walks. Getting stuck in the sand was a big fear; no help was nearby and cell phones were not even a fanciful dream.

I remember hot air and sun on my bare legs. I recall the sting of sand hitting tender legs in the wind. I remember the smell of dessert, and the stink following a brief rain shower.

By 5 years of age, we returned to the home in Altadena. This town was a suburb of Pasadena and did not have a well-defined downtown shopping district. For that we went into Pasadena where our doctors and major retailers were located. Schools and shops and churches were near but so were horse farms, golf courses and the foothills. The San Gabriel Mountains soared over our backyard, including Mount Wilson and its early, famed observatory. Our street was lined with towering palm trees bending ever so gently in the wind. Southern California weather was golden and soft, warm and gentle.

In the early 50’s we built a new home in Glendora, a small town of 5000. Again, it was nestled at the bottom of the foothills, below Mount Baldy and more of the San Gabriel mountains. Our home was built in an orange grove and we were the first family on our street. Before the other homes were built, we walked through endless rows of orange and lemon trees, sampling ripe oranges fresh from the tree. How refreshing on a warm afternoon! We stayed in Glendora only a year; dad transferred to a new job in Pittsfield, Massachusetts.

The summer of our move the family trekked cross county on a 2+ week vacation. From the shores of the Pacific to the green mountains of the Berkshire Hills of western Massachusetts. The trip was an odyssey. From mountains and deserts through high plains, the breadbasket of the Midwest and on to the green, green east coast states. Flora and fauna were like nothing we had ever seen. The culture was even more stark. The history was that of early America. We had learned the story of Father Junipero Sera and his settling of missions along the California coastline. The Spanish exploration of the western lands that eventually became settled as California and American territory. Cowboys, Indians, snakes and bears were part of our early childhood. But then came New England and its culture’s weight.

Pittsfield was the winter home of skiing. New York City dwellers visited often as an escape to thrill in the wonderland of snow in the Berkshires. In the fall those same folks flocked to our surroundings to witness nature’s shift from green to autumn’s riot of color. Then in the summer months we were home to the Boston Symphony at Tanglewood, dance at Jacob’s Pillow, early renaissance music at South Mountain Music Festival and of course countless summer stock theaters throughout the region. The Berkshires were a mecca of culture year round. It was special, especially for a family raised in the rough and tumble west. We were 120 miles west of Boston and 150 miles north of New York City.

Oh, and the winters filled with snow and cold winds. We were not used to that, no; not used to it at all. I remember trying to ice skate for the first time; didn’t do well; in fact never attempted it again! And no skiing, either; that was simply too cold, what with wet snow jammed down the shoes and boots. It hurt. It ached. All I wanted was warm and dry homebound conditions. I waited for more civilized temps.

After six years in Massachusetts (we had explored all New England on many vacations and weekend trips) we moved to upstate New York, Syracuse to be accurate. The snow belt. Tons of white stuff, constantly. And rolling farmlands reminiscent of England’s topography. Beautiful regions complete with the Finger Lakes and dells. But oh, those winters. Brutal. Tire chains. Constant snow shoveling and thundering snow plows built by Oshkosh. Heavy duty and big.

I graduated from high school in Syracuse but then attended college in Illinois (Knox College, Galesburg, Ill.). After four years there I remained in Illinois for my first career position, graduate school (2) and a career varied and challenging but fun. I’ve remained here ever since. But homes were in Cicero, Oak Park, Chicago (University of Chicago campus and then Lakeview on Lake Shore Drive), then Wheaton and the suburban life for 50+ years.

With a plethora of homes, I struggle to remember the placement of bathrooms, bedrooms, backyard features and whatnot. On the desert my sister and I shared a bedroom while my brother’s bedroom was a converted sunporch that was cold on winter nights and sandy the rest of the year. We lived in Navy housing units for the families of civil engineers. The Altadena home with large trees to climb and mountains to explore. High up we could see the ocean but only if the day was clear of smog.

Amazing the wealth of memories of mundane things popping to mind when least expected. The smell of a place; the breeze felt gently on the skin. The sounds, too. Together these trigger times remembered of long ago. You too?

February 16, 2021