My Little Part Of The World....

So...last night, around 2am, when most normal people are sound asleep....for some odd reason, I decided to play with maps on my phone. Well, here's actually how it started: I crawled into bed about that time. Fraser was on the TV. I look up and see him standing by his apartment door, which is # 1901.  That started me thinking about the apartment I grew up in before we moved into our house....1919 W. Victory Blvd. "Hmmmmm....I wonder if that old apartment building is still standing?"..... which then started me down this particular rabbit trail of thoughts...and what better time to journey down memory lane than at 2am🤔

So I type the address into my maps app, turn it to satellite mode, and sure enough, there it is. It hasn't changed! (At least from an aerial view). We moved into this apartment when I was about 3 1/2 years old. It was classic California at its 1970s best. The main apartment building was four units, probably built in the 1940s or 50s; 2 downstairs and 2 upstairs, with and center staircase between the two sides. There was a front lawn with a big tree that I use to dig up worms and pitch my pup tent under. We had a covered front porch, big window from the living room looking out into it, and we also had a covered back porch off the kitchen and dining room. Our washer and dryer were out on the back porch (yup, classic, vintage California living). There was a cement patio area out back, off our back porch, that my dad use to put my kiddie pool up every summer. That apartment had two bedrooms, one bathroom. It never felt small or crowded...it felt like home. It had warmth and character. We knew our landlord...he and his son actually were a presence there, doing the yard work, all the repairs needed, even stopping by personally to collect the rent each month. We also knew every one of our neighbors and, regardless of any differences, still were neighborly and we all looked out for each other. I remember the family that lived above us...they had a teenage son and daughter...who liked to party when the parents weren't home. My dad had no problem being "a dad" at those times and shutting their fun down when it was too loud and too late at night. It was the era of bell bottom jeans and groovy "peace and love". Yes, I grew up during the hippy era 😉

Directly across the street lived my grandma and next door to her lived my very best friend. Mamo lived in a sweet little duplex. She was in the front unit. I'm betting it was built in the 1920s and had all the classic architectural details to show from it. Soft plaster walls, thin slat hardwood floors, wide wood trim, kitchen appliances from the 1940s, and a little bathroom that most likely had been (well) renovated in the 1940s as well. In the backyard there was the clothesline, beyond that was my little heaven...a tiny orchard of apricot trees. I can remember every crack and curve of the front walk that led to the front door (complete with a curved step "front stoop".) I broke my arm when I was 5 years old, roller skating on that walk. Mamo use to sit my cousins and I out on that stoop after our naps, with mini marshmallows for a snack. And, I posed for picture after picture on that stoop in the clothes she made for me. 

Lisa and her brother and parents were next door. We would run back and forth between these three homes and yards, living the blessed life of kids in the 1970s. Strolling our dolls up and down the sidewalk, riding our bikes, roller skating, playing barbies on my front porch or under the shade of that big tree, running around the driveway in our swimsuits as my dad sprayed us with the garden hose on hot summer afternoons. It truly was the type of childhood you see on old shows.  Life wasn't perfect, but it had its blessings. 

                   

My apartment is on the lower right corner. Mamo lived across the street where the grey roof is. Lisa lived next door as you look "up" the picture. 

The summer before I went to 6th grade, my parents sent me off to Awana Scholarship Camp...and promptly moved while I was at camp. I KID YOU NOT, my parents moved while I was at summer camp. Classic 😂😂😂. Of course I knew they were moving, but it sounds so much funnier if I leave that part out😂. We moved about 2 miles up the road to a little WWII tract home. 900 square feet, 2 bedrooms, 1 bathroom, living room, dining room, kitchen, an indoor laundry room (we moved up in the world!;) that was really the back porch that had been enclosed at some earlier point in time, and what seemed like a HUGE back yard. It was actually really big as our little home was on a double (tandem) lot, which meant we had a decent size front yard and a BIG backyard. I wasn't sure about this house when my parents chose it...it was 3 doors down from the cemetery!!!!!  The park was two blocks over, the armory was a few blocks away, Lockheed was right there as well, and we were blocks from the Burbank Airport...which all meant we were right in the flight path😬. Again, our house was tiny, but our home NEVER felt too small. My parents were always doing something on that house. The bigegest project was a kitchen remodel they tackled themselves. I remember they sanded the kitchen cabinets down to raw wood, then stained them...mom wanted the "new" country look 😀. Seriously...the cabinets were REAL WOOD, not like what we see today. The phone hung on the kitchen wall. I spent every night doing dishes, after 7pm because I would talk on the phone while doing them. Yes, the phone cord would be stretch all the way across the kitchen so I could chat with a friend (had to wait till after 7pm so it wouldn't cost a small fortune to talk on the phone).   Again, we knew all our neighbors. We visited with them...face to face, in each other's homes or over the fence. We were part of their lives. 

                    

Yes, that would be a cemetery; I wasn't kidding;). My home was 3rd from the corner, grey roof, on the right side of the picture. Nothing has really changed...it all looks like it did when we lived there until 1987. 

                    

The park (we tended to play in the cemetery more than the park. Just crawled under the fence;). The armory just behind the park...it was very active with the proof being the military transport planes that would take off and shake our house every single month. And, toward the top of the picture, the armory/Lockheed back parking lot I learned to drive in. 

My parents sent me to Village Christian Schools, up the road in Sun Valley. I took the bus every day, until my jounior year when I finally had my own car and could drive. Jack In The Box was on the way, only a few blocks from home...still to this day, my favorite place to eat. 

                    

While it's changed in small ways, that's still very much the campus I spent 13 years on (yup, kindergarten thru 12th grade).   

So, while most people hear that I grew up in Southern California and consequently have this picture of what that was like...truth be told, growing up, my world wasn't really all that big. It was a community where we knew everyone, shopped the local grocery store, ate at our favorite restaurants where they usually knew what we would order when they saw us, and we walked everywhere.  It really was "the good old days" and the type of life we all wish our own kids could enjoy. A childhood that was dictated by when the streetlights came on rather than smartphones :)