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During my baby years, we lived in an apartment at 3838 Randolph, in a cottage at Epworth Park and a house on South 25th Street. I have no memories of any of these places.
My memory begins with the house on North 25th Street, Lincoln, Nebraska, the first house Mom and Dad bought.
As I look at the picture of that old two-story house, what memories unfold. I remember so well me and Mary Jo swinging as high as we could go on the porch swing.
I can still picture the entrance hall when you entered through the front door. Mom loved the French Doors that separated it from the living room. There was a small back porch where Mom had her washing machine. The basement was just a dirt hole in the ground except for the furnace. The stairs to the second floor were located in the entrance hall and went up to the three bedrooms and bathroom. Another game for me and Mary Jo, sliding down the stair banister.
My bedroom was on the second floor with its sloping ceiling. It would be so cold up there in the winter. Mom would make up a hot water bottle to keep my feet warm and cover me with a big heavy old comforter.
Dad raised chickens in the backyard. The old rooster was particularly protective of his territory. I chose to ignore the warnings from my dad and went into the chicken pen. That old rooster backed me up in a corner. Screaming louder than the rooster was squawking, I got daddy's attention. He rescued me from the rooster but also had a few words to say about "not listening."
