Life in a Small Town

There were days that I never imagined that I'd still be in Folsom! My family moved here when I was almost 10 years old, my brother was almost 12. My mother and her parents/family, were of course from here, so it was the logical place to 'settle in'. We'd moved from Kenner (where the airport is), and it was growing so fast that my parents felt it would be best to 'get us out of the city' and move to the 'country'. Well, "I" adjusted well, but it was a bit different for my brother. He was an all-around athlete, could ride his bike around the corner to the park, or in the neighborhood ~safely back then~and we were surrounded by family, living in almost identical houses, the floor plan being twisted around a bit, just to sell, I guess! It was the 1960's, but things were changing. Our mothers didn't 'have' to work, so they were home when we got home from school. They listened to our explanations of what happened to us that day, at school or on the bus; they had snacks ready for us to eat...it wasn't like 'Ozzie and Harriet', but it was just, well, comfortable.

My mother helped baby-sit while my Aunt Sherrie was going into the hospital to have her youngest son; and some of those kids stayed with Mom, even after Aunt Sherrie went back to work. My mother got into a HORRIBLE automobile accident, where she and our next door neighbor went through the windshield. They were rear-ended by a Frey Meat truck at a red light! When my Aunt Kathy met us at the bus stop, my heart jumped. That wonderful routine changed for quite some time!

When Mom finally came home, she looked like a MUMMY, not MOMMY, to us. So, when she healed, she also looked different. I'm drawing some blanks, so I must have 'blocked' it from my memory. That's when Dad knew it was time to get out of there. And the plans began to move out of Kenner, across Lake Ponchartrain, to the 'country'. Oh, how grateful I am for that decision. (to be continued)