prune picker

This is the blog of a prune picker. (Native born Californian) Retired oilfield. I am an old man. (91) I blog a lot about my body and getting old. As I approach death life gets more interesting. More interesting is not good. I still drive. I attend sports, music, and civic events. I am writing my memoirs. I attend swim class three times a week. Some of my blogs might be interesting. A lot of my blogs are silly and trivial. None are very long.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

(Boy 4) First and Second Grade.

I must have lived on East Third for two or three years. I believe that I went to the second and third grade while living on East Third. Like I have said this was the last time that I lived in a home with women present. My maternal grandmother and my sister Dallas lived with us. From East Third my bother Warren (four years older than me) and I were put in a home for boys. After a year or so we came home to Pomona and lived with my Dad. Living conditions with just men is not too good. Things kept going down hill until my Dad had a stroke and was permanently disabled (when I was around 14). Partly due to my own actions I was an orphan from that time until I went into the Army. Then the Army adopted me.

I can remember two different rooms at school. I assume they were the first and second grade classrooms. There was a big clock on the wall. I can remember the agony of waiting for the last thirty minutes of class to be over. This is probably when I learned to read the clock.

A man used to read the Sunday funnies over the radio. I would spread the funnies out on the porch and listen while the man read the funnies to me. One day I realized that I could read. What a feeling of power. I have enjoyed reading ever since.

I remember playing soccer and really enjoying it. I never played it again after the third grade. I enjoy watching soccer today.

My oldest brother, Keith, had a bad motorbike accident. I can remember My Dad telling the story of how he stood up to the doctors and would not let them cut Keith's leg off. It was dramatic. Keith did not lose his leg but a wore a steel and leather brace for the rest of his life. I can remember him recovering for many months in our front room. He learned to play the guitar and would sing. Keith was probably my brother that was the most congenial (loveable).

One time before this Keith served in the CCC. I can remember him coming home on leave in his suntans.

I can remember Mark Johnson parking his huge convertible sedan in the back yard. It almost filled the backyard. Mark was courting Dallas. He was her second and last husband.

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