I was excited about the prospect of a new house, new friends, and (according to my Mom) a new way of life. My parents were from the midwest - Mom and Dad grew up, went to college and married in Indiana. My Mother told us that people from the midwest were refined - not like the the heathens we had become living in southern California. People in the midwest ALWAYS acted gracious and polite. They wore hats and gloves, especially if going out after dark. I was fascinated. Yes, I could be a lady, at least most of the time.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. We learned quickly that a house on the market must be beautiful, clean and uncluttered at all times if expected to sell. There were eight children in the family at that point. We were somewhat crowded in the house, although I don't ever remember anything looking cramped. But there was a noticeable difference of how my Mom cleaned and fixed everything up for sale. And we knew better than to mess it up!
Before we knew it, the house was sold and we were ready to start the long journey from California to Illinois. Movers had come and packed up almost everything in the house. Our beds and the final boxes would be added to the moving van that morning.
We each got several sets of play-clothes and new sneakers for the trip. Those that were old enough packed our own bags, although I don't remember what we had for suitcases. My Mom carefully assembled bottles, diapers and other necessities for Susie (ages 2) and clothes for Greg (age 3) in the upstairs linen closet. She planned to dress them and pack a diaper bag at the last minute before we left. The movers were given strict instructions not to pack that closet. But as you may guess - when it was time, the closet was empty. I'm not sure what Mom did, although I know Greg & Susie were dressed when we were leaving. Perhaps a kindly neighbor?
A new station wagon had been purchased in honor of the trip - a Chrysler Town & Country. The entire neighborhood turned out to say goodbye. As a salute to our friends and the happy years we spent on Talbot Drive, my Dad lit off a Piccolo Pete - a small firecracker that sent out an ear-splitting, shrill whistle. There were many hugs, a few tears and then it was time to go. Off we went, with my Father leading us singing "Let's Go Fly A Kite" from Mary Poppins.
Instead of barreling across the country in the least amount of time, my parents planned to make this journey a vacation. Our route was not the most direct, but led up the scenic California coastline to San Francisco, over mountains to Yosemite National Park, across the beautiful Nevada desert, and included a day at Yellowstone. I'm not sure how long the trip was, but my guess is about a week. We were in the car together about eight hours a day.
And finally we arrived in Deerfield, Illinois. Our new house was much bigger than I ever imagined and it sat on three acres of partially wooded land. There was an old swingset and sandbox in the backyard, but the most exciting thing for us kids was the neat little treehouse that was expertly constructed at the edge of the woods. The ladder used for entrance was at least ten feet high. Once at the top, you needed to turn your body to get on a little porch. Then there was this little room, complete with a window, big enough for several children. I wish someone had thought to take a picture.
So a new chapter in our lives began, although Talbot Drive was still very close to our hearts and memories.
Before we knew it, the house was sold and we were ready to start the long journey from California to Illinois. Movers had come and packed up almost everything in the house. Our beds and the final boxes would be added to the moving van that morning.
We each got several sets of play-clothes and new sneakers for the trip. Those that were old enough packed our own bags, although I don't remember what we had for suitcases. My Mom carefully assembled bottles, diapers and other necessities for Susie (ages 2) and clothes for Greg (age 3) in the upstairs linen closet. She planned to dress them and pack a diaper bag at the last minute before we left. The movers were given strict instructions not to pack that closet. But as you may guess - when it was time, the closet was empty. I'm not sure what Mom did, although I know Greg & Susie were dressed when we were leaving. Perhaps a kindly neighbor?
A new station wagon had been purchased in honor of the trip - a Chrysler Town & Country. The entire neighborhood turned out to say goodbye. As a salute to our friends and the happy years we spent on Talbot Drive, my Dad lit off a Piccolo Pete - a small firecracker that sent out an ear-splitting, shrill whistle. There were many hugs, a few tears and then it was time to go. Off we went, with my Father leading us singing "Let's Go Fly A Kite" from Mary Poppins.
Instead of barreling across the country in the least amount of time, my parents planned to make this journey a vacation. Our route was not the most direct, but led up the scenic California coastline to San Francisco, over mountains to Yosemite National Park, across the beautiful Nevada desert, and included a day at Yellowstone. I'm not sure how long the trip was, but my guess is about a week. We were in the car together about eight hours a day.
And finally we arrived in Deerfield, Illinois. Our new house was much bigger than I ever imagined and it sat on three acres of partially wooded land. There was an old swingset and sandbox in the backyard, but the most exciting thing for us kids was the neat little treehouse that was expertly constructed at the edge of the woods. The ladder used for entrance was at least ten feet high. Once at the top, you needed to turn your body to get on a little porch. Then there was this little room, complete with a window, big enough for several children. I wish someone had thought to take a picture.
So a new chapter in our lives began, although Talbot Drive was still very close to our hearts and memories.
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