Excerpt

The Early Years
Being a part of the baby boomer generation was actually great. It was a simpler time when the family unit was strong. We respected our parents, grandparents, and neighbors and for that matter all adults. We played outside and listened to Uncle Remus on the radio. Mom washed dishes by hand and hung our clothes on a clothesline to dry. Twice a week she changed the bedding and the sheets felt cool and crisp and smelled of fresh air. That’s not to say that today’s fabric softeners aren’t good, it’s just different.
My grandchildren think I’m as old as dirt when I tell them there were no dials or push buttons on the phone. If no one else was on the party line talking when you picked it up the operator would say, “Number please.” You gave her a three-digit number and she would connect you. Who would ever imagine in that day and age that we would one day have cell phones, play stations, IPODS, home computers, laptops, digital cameras, microwave ovens, and the thousands of other wonderful inventions that today we take for granite.
I was born in Wyoming but my parents left there when I was an infant. The first ten years of my life were basically spent in a small Colorado town approximately 250 miles west of Denver called Craig. It was about forty miles from the renowned ski resort town of Steamboat Springs. Winters were long and cold. I remember building multi-room snow forts that seemed to last for weeks and weeks. I never remember schools closing because of snow or sub-zero temperatures.
My father owned one of two gas stations in the town (later there were three) and they were right across the street from each other. They would have gas wars and gas would go down to ten and fifteen cents a gallon. Imagine that! Now this was the era where the attendant pumped your gas, checked your oil, washed your windows, and put air in your tires. Full service, huh? In addition, for only ten cents a gallon!
The only drug store in town was right next to my dad’s station. I must have been about four at that time. I know I wasn’t old enough to write my name. One day I sneaked out to the drug store, picked out the candy I wanted and a wallet. Cuddles, yes Cuddles was the name of the woman who worked there. She was short with bleached white hair and probably in her fifties. “I would like to charge this please,” I told her. She said ok, but went to call my dad. He told her to make me sign for it. Well, I couldn’t write my name so I’m sure it was some kind of scribble. Proudly I returned to the gas station with my purchases. My dad then asked me how I was going to pay for my purchase. “Oh, I charged it!” I proudly stated. Wow, my first life’s lesson in charge and pay. I don’t remember what work he had me do, but I’m sure I had to work and pay off the bill.
The first house we lived in on Lincoln Street was just four very small rooms. There was only a small kitchen, living room, one bedroom, and bathroom. It was really an ugly little house with a pitched roof and gray shingle siding, but it was immaculate. My mom was a great housekeeper. The house sat on a rather large lot and the Yampa Creek (I think that was the name of it) ran along the back of the property. My little friend, Corkie, from next door and I would sit on the bank and watch the water when we could sneak away. We always were caught though and were in big trouble for going so close to the edge.
Corkie’s house was a little bigger than ours was. They at least had two bedrooms. Our pretty, little Mexican friend, Sadie, lived next door to Corkie. Her and her mother lived in a very small two-room house - if you could call it a house! They cooked on a wood burning stove with the cast iron griddles on the top. We loved to go there when her mother was making flour tortillas. She would butter them and give them to us hot off the griddle. UUMM! Yep, I was the chubby kid who loved the flour tortillas drenched in butter, but of the three of us, I was the fat kid.
My Aunt Freda and Uncle Curtis lived right across the street from Corkie. Aunt Freda was an elementary school teacher and Uncle Curtis was a barber. They never had children. Their house was huge compared to ours. A big white colonial surrounded with towering pine trees. We loved to go there because she always had a full cookie jar and candy dish. Amazing how the memories always go back to the foods.
I went to kindergarten when we lived there so I must have been five years old. My bed was in the same room as my mom and dad. I was awakened one night when my parents were making love. I said, “What’s you kids doin’?” That’s when my mother decided it was definitely time for a bigger house.
My father’s gas station was very successful so they decided to build the house of their dreams. They purchased property on the outskirts of town. It was three quarters of the way up a hill and near the edge of the big sand rocks. Besides, it was the area where all the important townies were building new homes. It had to be about 1953. They chose a very modern looking design. Ironically, in Colorado the roof was flat. There was no garage but an attached carport. There were ceiling to floor glass windows across the entire front and carport side of the house. A breakfast nook extended to the carport with large windows on three sides. There were two bedrooms and a bath at the far end of the house. Then there was a full basement with a bedroom, bath, family room, and utility room. It was truly their dream house.