Memory Lane

I grew up in South West Bakersfield. We lived in one of the few neighborhoods that didn’t have a wall and a name. Behind my house was Thompson Jr. High School, and behind it was the edge of the universe. Dirt fields, farmland, and tumbleweeds. There were so many tumbleweeds we made forts out of them. These were big forts. I remember my favorite – it was a 2 story, 3 bedroom, 1 ½ bath wonder.

We were poor. Apparently having three kids and a mortgage can cause a financial strain for some people. Especially with a stay at home mom. My mom was, is, and always will be the quintessential mother of all time. June Cleaver had nothing compared to my mom. To describe how great my mom is, I would have to start a whole other blog. Thanks to my mother’s greatness, I had no idea we were poor. When I got my very own box of Cheese Nips for Christmas – a box I didn’t have to share with ANYONE – I was overjoyed.

We had several dogs over the years. None of them lasted very long. I had the misfortune of watching our Cockapoo, Snuffy, get hit by a car when I was about 3 years old. We also had a big, white with black spots, mutt dog named Barney. He liked to hunt. He would bring home rabbits and other items he had found. One time he brought home the leg of a lamb – hoof and all. The best find that Barney made however, was a shirt. It was a nice shirt and it fit my brother perfectly so he wore it to school and had his picture taken in it.

We lived on a cul-de-sack with just three houses on it. The house in the middle had a desert landscape instead of grass, complete with various types of cacti, rocks, sand, and lizards. One time I was running (cuz I used to run a lot – and I was fast!) in my new red, patent-leather boots, and I slipped and fell on a cactus and all of those long pokey things stuck into my leg - through the boot! I didn’t like that house.

A Mexican-Irish family lived in the other house. He was Irish and she was Mexican, but she had the red hair. He built a plane in his garage and I used to go over and watch him. She grew all kinds of exotic plants and had an aviary full of birds. Her house was full of good smells and interesting things to look at and I used to knock on her door and ask for something to eat. I liked that house.

My parents lived in that house on that cul-de-sac for 25 years. When they sold it I cried and cried and begged them not to. I drive by it sometimes. The Mexican-Irish family still live there and I still knock on the door and ask for something to eat.

That’s why I love Bakersfield.