Mark, my sister and I drove to Whittier, CA, to attend a funeral at the grave of my best friend's mom at Rose Hills Cemetery. We decided to stop first by our previous home at 13222 Foxley Drive. Ann revealed that our brand new tract home (in the black & white photo in the center above, with my sister and I standing out front) was built in 1954, shortly after which we moved in. (The house is valued at over $500K.) I still have a vivid memory of my parents closing the door to our bedroom that first night, though leaving it slightly ajar with the hall light on to illuminate the way to the bathroom between our bedroom and our parents' bedroom at the front of the house.
The top photo is of that house today. The bottom color photo is how the house looked in 1987, when Ann and I stopped by and snapped a few pictures since the house was unoccupied and likely being readied for sale. Overall, the house has not changed much in all the intervening years. (I am not certain why the current owners have a fence that blocks passage to the garage in back.)
Our house at 1915 South Broadway in Santa Ana, CA, did not quite seem like home because we were both too young to understand much. But Foxley was where we went to kindergarten and elementary school until the summer of 1959, when we moved to an apartment complex in Orange, CA, prior to our father marrying the wicked step mother, Willene.
For those few years from 1954 until 1959, the house on Foxley Drive was home. Not only was it where we first attended public school, it was also where we celebrated several Christmases and Easters and Halloweens. Foxley is a dead end street, so the block was rather insular. We had friends our own ages up and down the street. Most parents parked their one car in the driveway or the garage, so the street was mostly clear to ride one's bike without much danger. The neighborhood male parents were all WWII veterans who had likely moved into their first new homes and created spaces for their families to thrive. The Tiptons lived across the street, with a daughter my age and a son a year younger than Ann; the Hofeldts lived next door with one daughter a year older than I, another daughter Ann's age, and a son, Donnie, who was several years younger.
Our house at 1915 South Broadway in Santa Ana, CA, did not quite seem like home because we were both too young to understand much. But Foxley was where we went to kindergarten and elementary school until the summer of 1959, when we moved to an apartment complex in Orange, CA, prior to our father marrying the wicked step mother, Willene.
For those few years from 1954 until 1959, the house on Foxley Drive was home. Not only was it where we first attended public school, it was also where we celebrated several Christmases and Easters and Halloweens. Foxley is a dead end street, so the block was rather insular. We had friends our own ages up and down the street. Most parents parked their one car in the driveway or the garage, so the street was mostly clear to ride one's bike without much danger. The neighborhood male parents were all WWII veterans who had likely moved into their first new homes and created spaces for their families to thrive. The Tiptons lived across the street, with a daughter my age and a son a year younger than Ann; the Hofeldts lived next door with one daughter a year older than I, another daughter Ann's age, and a son, Donnie, who was several years younger.
So many black & white photographs attest to the birthday parties and a Halloween party and Christmas gatherings. This was the 1950's, a time when many Americans still living look back upon fondly. The late 1940's were still a time of disruptions, both political and cultural. Industries took precious time to convert back to civilian manufacturing. Towns and cities were still recovering from the Great Depression and WWII when infrastructures aged and frayed. Many GI's went to college or tried to find jobs or careers after they returned from the war. The 1950's seemed to be the true modern flowering of Mid-Century Modern. New cars with new designs and features rolled off the assembly lines each fall and appeared in showrooms and on the streets, fascinating the boys and their fathers. More modern aircraft flew overhead on their path to Los Angeles International Airport.
Television and toys were gearing up to capture the attention and the wallets of our generation. I still remember the evening my sister came home from visiting a girlfriend to tell us that a new Disney program, The Mickey Mouse Club, was about to air. Mom turned on the TV in the den (it was not in the living room), and we watched from that afternoon forward.
Our parents seemed happy and in love. They made us feel safe and secure. But that was not to last. Mom, I am told, became bored with a husband whom she had married in 1947 who was a Captain in the Air Force. But when a new war began in Korea in 1950, he did not want to serve where he might once again become a prisoner of war as he had been in Germany when his bomber was going to crash and the crew bailed out. He got out of the Air Force at some point in the early 1950's, found a job at a Fuller Paint store in Whittier, and the family soon moved from Santa Ana to Foxley Drive.
The marriage began to come apart before the decade ended. I remember dad once asking me if I were to choose, whom did I wish to live with? Him or our mother? I, of course, replied that I wanted to live with both of them. He insisted that that was not going to be possible. Ann remembers that when he asked her what she wanted for Christmas at The Quad, the nearby mall in Whittier, and she said, "A Betsy Wetsy doll," he simply grabbed one off the shelf and bought for her, oblivious to her protestations that she wanted Santa Claus to bring it for Christmas. We had a series of housekeepers after mom moved out, one in particular was old and cruel and did not spare the rod. Then our Grandmother lived with us for a time and helped to raise us, though she was not the best person to deal with us grandkids because she could be physically abusive. Life on Foxley had turned unhappy.
Our parents seemed happy and in love. They made us feel safe and secure. But that was not to last. Mom, I am told, became bored with a husband whom she had married in 1947 who was a Captain in the Air Force. But when a new war began in Korea in 1950, he did not want to serve where he might once again become a prisoner of war as he had been in Germany when his bomber was going to crash and the crew bailed out. He got out of the Air Force at some point in the early 1950's, found a job at a Fuller Paint store in Whittier, and the family soon moved from Santa Ana to Foxley Drive.
The marriage began to come apart before the decade ended. I remember dad once asking me if I were to choose, whom did I wish to live with? Him or our mother? I, of course, replied that I wanted to live with both of them. He insisted that that was not going to be possible. Ann remembers that when he asked her what she wanted for Christmas at The Quad, the nearby mall in Whittier, and she said, "A Betsy Wetsy doll," he simply grabbed one off the shelf and bought for her, oblivious to her protestations that she wanted Santa Claus to bring it for Christmas. We had a series of housekeepers after mom moved out, one in particular was old and cruel and did not spare the rod. Then our Grandmother lived with us for a time and helped to raise us, though she was not the best person to deal with us grandkids because she could be physically abusive. Life on Foxley had turned unhappy.
I remember in the middle of one Christmas Eve night before it all turned unpleasant, when I walked to the bathroom, I decided to slide back the pocket door to the living room. In the light from the hall, and under the tree by the picture window, were many presents that attested to the fact that not only had Santa visited, he had been quite generous that night to us two kids.
It was that sense of home and family that has scented my dreams of having the perfect familial life once again. I almost approached that experience when I lived at 6555 Palmer Park Blvd in Colorado Springs, CO. But that was after I was forced to resign from the Air Force; and while I had a couple of roommates over the years, I never had a partner to complete the picture of a happy home.
I suspect that is why all seems well, and even near perfect, here, living in California once again after all those years of living in North Dakota with the Air Force and then Colorado. The hopes and dreams have come true, even if it took as long as these advanced years to actually be fulfilled.
