BACK TO CALIFORNIA:
1929: THe BIG depression was just getting underway, and California beckoned once more, for whatever reasons I don't know, but I presume financial conditions seemed rosier inthe sunshine state. Picture this: A Model T Ford touring car, with side curtains, piled within a couple feet of the roof in the rear seat with blankets, clothes, and all possessions worth taking. Dad built a tall box with cupboard doors which was tied on tht driver's side of the fender and the dishes and cooking utensils were stashed in that. Jack and I took turns, one lying flat on top of the blankets, etc. in the back seat while the other sat in front with the folks. The trip took six days, and nights we stayed in cabins scattered along the way. I can recall narrow winding roads, some hugging the side of a mountain with sheer drops of thousands of feet on the cliff side, and sometimes long periods of time when we'd never see another human being. Finally, the day arrived when we drove into the driveway at my grandparents' property. They'd built a new house, so Mother's sister and her husband, Andy, plus their four year old son, Frank (or "Buster", as he was called) lived in the older house, next door. They all came bounding out the door to greet us, and Buster jumped up on the fender box, which promptly went crashing to the ground breaking a good portion of Mother's dishes. That calamity was soon forgotten, since it was just so great to be at the end of our journey.
First problem was to find a place to live, and that was accomplished in short order when some neighbors of the grandparents ofered to rent us their garage! It was a regulation-size double garage with partitions inside which didn't go all the way to the roof seperating the cooking, sleeping, and bath areas. We didn't stay in it very long, as Norma and Andy used our arrival as a convenient time to return to Los Angeles where Andy had a job as a street car conductor, so we moved into their house. That Fall I was in the third grade, and my teacher's name was Mrs. Brooks, whom I adored. Chino was a very pleasant little town, and we proceeded to grow and thrive on the friendly atmosphere. I neglected to mention that Dad found a job almost immediately after we arrived in Chino, at a meat processing plant between there and the nearby town of Ontario. He had been working there just one week when some federal inspectors arrived, and arrested everyone in the place. It seems they'd been processing meat that hadn't passed any inspection, but Dad hadn't been there long enough to know about it. Fortunately, the owner told the agents that Dad was innocent, so they let him go. Of course, that was short-lived job since the meat packing plant was closed forever. Soon after, Dad decided to into business for himself by buying into a meat market in Pomona, which took an over-abundant amount of courage, considering he didn't have much money, and markets were folding right and left in those early days of the depression. Come to think about it, he didn't have much to lose. However, that started a string of years when Jack and I saw very little of our father. He left for work before we were awake, and returned long after we were asleep. That was mostly seven days a week, as well, but living next door to our grandparents seemed to fill that gap somewhat. We lived in Chino for three years and I attended the third, fourth, and fifth grades there. I was completely unaware that millions of people all over the world were suffering as the result of that terrible depression. None of us had very much money, but I never saw any family actually go hungry, so I guess the best place to be in such a situation was a small town, surrounded by farms, where food is grown and dispersed locally. My grandfather always had a big garden and grew his own chickens. Gosh, how I'd run and hide when my grandmother went out the the chicken yard to round up a couple of chickens and proceed to wring their necks. Can remember sitting out in the back yard helping her pick off the feathers after she dunked them into a pail of boiling water.
About a block down the road from us some "rich people" lived, who had a swimming pool, which they generously invited the neighborhood children to share. All of us spent entire summers in that pool, and since it sported a wonderful slide at the deep end, most of the time was spent under water, and I can remember winding up one long summer with green hair. It remained green until it grew out enough to cut it all off, but I was hardly aware of it since I hadn't reached the age of caing about such minor details. I was not a child to play with dolls, or have tea parties, or even dress up in my mother's high heels, much to her regret. One Christmas, or I should say before Christmas, on one of our shopping trips to Ontario, and I remember it was in the Penney's store, I spied a baby doll that just enthralled me. However, the price was $5.00, far more expensive than I could hope would be spent on a present. However, just before we started home I saw Mother slip some money into Grandpa's hand and whisper something to him. Right then and there I knew I was going to get that doll, especially when he returned with just the right size box which let out a little cry when he tipped it while putting it in the trunk of the car. Well, I was truly thrilled to get that doll, but doubt if I played with it more than a half dozen times in all the years I had it. Mother used to take it out of it's little box once or twice a year to wash and iron it's clothes , and I s'pose try and inspire me to play with it, but I was always in the walnut orchard, across the street, climbing trees, or trying to join a boy's baseball team. It was great fun when "Buddy", our cousin fromSan Diego came, and "Buster", from Los Angeles, so I could tag along after Jack and the cousins. One day we were playing in the park, in downtown Chino, climbing on the slanted legs which held one of the swings. We'd climb to the top, then drop off. On one of my dropoffs my tongue must have been sticking out because I darn near bit it in two. As soon as I saw the blood I started howling, and the three boys started laughing, not realizing what a terrible would I'd suffered. I grabbed one corner of the hem of my coat and held it over the cut and ran the mile and a half home as fast as I could, knowing full well I would bleed to death before I got there! Well, the coat was a mess when I reached home, and when I was assured of living after a cold washclothe was put on the wound I finally relaxed. Sometime later the three boys arrived with a nice bouquet of flowers they'd picked on the way home in fields and people's yards, trying to show me how sorry they were abou laughing when I had such a life-threatening accident. Instead of smiling pitifull and accepting the flowers in the spirit in which they were proffered I threw them on the floor, stamped my foot and yelled them to leave me alone!