At first it was exciting. Being in town was so new for me and the family. I started school a few months after we moved, and could walk to school. I liked that for I made some new friends on my way to school. We could roam around the town and explore. It was safe then. We never worried about being careful or watching out for the dangers, whatever that was.
My mom got a job housekeeping for the Kingreys. She did everything, the cleaning and the washings. I remember seeing her doing the wash out under the trees and rubbing clothes on a scrub-board, and ringing them out by hand, then hanging them on long lines out in the yard. She washed the clothes one day and ironed them the next day. She was working from sun up to sun-down and making less than two dollars a week. She walked to her job every day. Must have been hard for her. She finally got a job in a Cafe, waiting tables. With the tips, she was making two dollars a week.
I never knew about money, there was none. We were given pennies to spend, and those were scarce. We could get about ten pieces of candy at Broussard's store with a penny, so we would make that last for a long time.
School was free and we went to school every day, there was never a question about not going. We just went. And we played outside when not in school, so I spent most of my free time outside. It was my safe haven. Somehow my sister Relia was always around. She and I were close in age, so we stayed together much of the time. We always went together, when visiting my dad. She was my big sister, and I followed her around.
The house we had moved into in town was a three room house, not three bedrooms, three rooms with about eleven-twelve people living in one house. There were beds in all the rooms, with one bed behind the stove for grandma and grandpa. I can remember at least three beds in the living room. No one lay in the beds in daytime, they had to stay made-up all day. they were a part of the living room furniture.
Funny thing. I always thought that was the normal way of living.
No comments:
Post a Comment