prune picker

This is the blog of a prune picker. (Native born Californian) Retired oilfield. I am an old man. 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.

Sunday, March 2, 2014

(Youth 2) A formal goodbye to George Junior Republic.




After I dropped from the window of my room I walked 10 miles north to Holt Avenue (main highway north) in Pomona. I then hitch hiked 400 miles north to my Aunt Marjorie's home in Berkeley, California. I had at a younger age hitch hiked to Aunt Marjorie's to attend the San Francisco World's Fair in 1938.

Anyhow I knew the way to Aunt Marjorie's house. My memory of this trip is non existent. Did I have money or food? I would have food at Aunt Marjorie's. Notice that I did not go to a sisters house in Pomona. There were three living there at the time. Instead I go 400 miles to my Aunt's. My sisters had put me in the home, I guess I was an embarrassed escapee. I do not recall any details of the trip to Berkeley and back to Pomona. I assume that I hitch hiked both ways.

My next memory from this time is of sitting in the office of the chief executive of the George Junior Republic. I was sitting with my sister Jean. I evidently had returned to Pomona from Berkeley and turned myself in to my sister Jean. Jean was really my substitute mother. She was so good to me and such a help in my life. Prior to our visit to the Republic I had made living arrangements. For more hours the U and I Cafe would give me my meals and 15 to 20 dollars a month pay. (I figured at one time I was getting 17 cents an hour, plus meals). I had rented a room on East Second Street for $4.50 per month.

The executive we were visiting while checking out of the school told Jean that we were making a bad mistake letting me leave the Republic and that I would come to a no good end. I remember saying to myself "oh yeah? I will show you!".

From this time on I have supported myself.


Present entrance to George Junior Republic. On my recent visit to the school I got the impression that it was a good school and a good place for a boy to be. (Especially if the boy's home is dysfunctional.)



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