This is the first of my Small Town Series. I'm guessing I'll have regular blogs in between these stories, as this is a loooooong tale. For that reason, I'll title these "Small Town: blah blah"
I guess I should start my Small Town series at the beginning. My earliest memories, although few, are of when we lived on "Circle" Dr in Small Town. Circle Dr was literally that, a giant circle with only two roads leading in. Well, Circle Dr was more of an oval with the long sides on the east and west. Entry roads were one to the south, and another to the west. That was a long time ago, and the memories are very few, and seem to be simple mundane things, not life events that at the time I thought would stick with me forever. It was the mid to late 1970's, I remember dressing up (Thanks Mom!) for the nation's bicentennial parade, the GIANT (It wasn't that big, we were just little) dirt pile in the vacant lot next door. That mountain of dirt got me into more trouble than almost anything I have ever encountered, until I learned how much fun girls were. "Jr, DO NOT get dirty! We're going to Grandma's for dinner. Go outside and wait for us." Yeah, that didn't quite work out in my favor. I do remember my left hand in my Mom's left hand, Dad's belt in her right hand, me running around in circles in the kitchen, and a sore ass! We literally had roads built on that dirt pile with our toy construction equipment. The local contractor made that mountain of dirt, built all these houses. We fought over who would get to be "Dave" and be in charge of the dirt pile, sometimes I won, sometimes I lost and had to be his brother "Ron". But that dirt pile was always a well functioning construction site! Had to be 1978 or 1979, "Dave" bought a new backhoe in real life. My dad who worked as a heavy equipment mechanic, brought home a model of "Dave's" new backhoe. From that day forward, on the dirt pile, I was Dave!
I remember the first time I was allowed to make a complete circuit around Circle Dr on my bike! Wow! FREEDOM! This was also the time I remember developing my own personality, and laying the foundation of a network of friends that would forever change my life, because they literally changed who I was, and who I would become. Little did we know...
A very important part of my life happened back then on Circle Dr. Friends of our family (from a time Pre-Bill) had parents living a few doors down from us. They were Immigrants from Germany. I went to visit every chance I had, I considered them my own grandparents. They were the first to teach me about my German heritage. Up until this point, my 5 year old brain thought everyone was American. They taught me about German culture, food, language. They actually taught me how my great grandparents were born in other countries, the main one being Germany. And what a difficult time it must have been for them. I really don't remember actual stories, but I do remember my German Grandparents telling me stories about their struggles to get to America. Eventually "Grandpa" wouldn't let me in the house unless I told "Grandma" Guten Tag, Guten Morgen or the appropriate response in German. "Grandma" would always tell me "Ich liebe dich" when I saw her. It wasn't until years later, when Opa told me what she was saying. Then I would reply "Ich liebe dich auch Oma" I love you too Grandma! I was too young to realize what I lost when they passed away. Sourball candies and liverwurst sandwiches. To this day I miss my "Opa" and "Oma." I loved them dearly, and now I realize how much they loved me.
My Dad worked hard. I never considered him my "father," he was just Dad. He wasn't around much in my early years, he went to work to make sure we had everything we needed. We weren't rich, we weren't poor. We got by. I'm sure there were struggles he and my mother went through, but my sister's and I never knew about them. We moved around quite a bit, Dad went where the work was. We lived in MANY places in Small Town, OH, Brunswick Oh, and Cape Coral Florida.
Brunswick OH taught me how to get what I wanted. When we moved there I owned a Z-50 Honda, when we left I owned a YZ-80 Yamaha. Dad was at work, but taught me how to use a wrench because that's what he did. I would fix dirt bikes for the neighbors, save money, trade and buy and ended up with a much newer and faster dirt bike. The only other story I remember from Brunswick was my Dad and I leaving the house on a Saturday, and leaving his stick shift Volkswagen Rabbit with Mom and my middle sister. They wanted to go shopping, but neither could drive stick shift. Dad simply said, "Jr and I have things to do, if you want to go bad enough, you're smart! You'll figure it out!" When Dad and I got home, the Rabbit had logged 1/10th of a mile. They didn't go shopping!
The next blog is going to be about my time in Florida. I came of age, had a two fantastic jobs. Probably two of the most fantastic years of my life. Those two years set me up for what really mattered. And so the story continues.....
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