Growing up in a family of 8 children (7 girls and 1 boy), there are a lot of memories. We grew up in the house you see. Built in 1926, it was a pretty neat house. 1958 was the year we moved in. I remember in the cellar there was a bar, tables and benches and big playing cards and chips on the ceiling. I found out after my parents passed in 1996 that the house used to be a speakeasy during the prohibition days. There was a door from the back patio to the cellar which I’m sure is how they got down there to buy the illegal booze.
I did my share of tearing through our house at mock speed chasing a sibling or having a sibling chase me. Now that I think about it, I remember being chased by my Dad a few times too. Friends would come visit and think we were having a party, and we’d tell them “no, we all live here”! We had a picnic table for a kitchen table and that still wasn’t big enough. If you wanted a good seat, you had to sit down to dinner 20 minutes before it was ready! And you had to be careful of taking seconds. My sister stabbed me in the hand with her fork one night when I tried to take more mashed potatoes! So many great Christmases, so much laughter. My dad had a great sense of humor and passed that on to all of his children. I can’t imagine going through life without finding humor along the way. When I see people who rarely smile or laugh, I can’t help but feel sorry for them as they are missing out on a very great part of life.
In this house we had good times and bad, but all well worth the memories. . .