Day 4 of The Challenge.

Today I am feeling nostalgic. Above is a picture of the house where I grew up. It was sort of a magical place to grow up in. Many an hour was passed on that screened in front porch you see. Sisters would sit out in the rockers passing the time together. We played many a game of 'devil in the ditch' on that front sidewalk. Tons of cousins would come to visit in the summer and games of 'kick the can' would ensure in the backyard and across the neighborhood. An old boyfriend scribbled his name in the wet cement of the driveway when we were in high school. Dad made him scratch it out. We had neighbors with names like Bertucci, Hiederhoff, Garguilo and even a bald neighbor with the first name of 'Curly'. We were in walking distance of the library. It was probably a mile, but going there was like a religious experience. It was quiet and air conditioned.  Down the block, around the corner and across the railroad tracks there was a little grocery where we would spend our allowance on candy. In the summer we drank Barq's root beer. In a bottle. Oh, there is a difference. When I was in 6th grade one of my classmate's lived a few blocks away. Her name was Janice Zalotta. I  thought she was exotic. Also in the sixth grade my friend, Maynelle Harshberger, gave me a yellow tabby cat. His name was Charlie Brown. He died the summer of 1969 while I was visiting my oldest sister in Houston, Texas. The same month we landed on the moon. I didn't find out Charlie Brown died until I got home. I heaved and cried for a while. In August of that year Camille came to visit. My grandmother's first house was whisked away, for the most part. My uncle spent many hours treasure hunting for any of their possessions he could rescue.  

My grandmother and uncle had lived across the street. We would cross the street, walk through their yard and go to the beach. After Camille they bought a house down the street from us but eventually rebuilt on the spot across the street from us. Every 4th of July we would walk through their yard and sit on the sea wall at the beach and watch the fireworks display. The display was shot at the harbor but could be seen for miles and miles. We had the perfect front row seats. Every year. Wow. 

Yep. It was pretty fabulous living that close to the beach. Heaven. My thankful thoughts today are gravitating toward the place where I grew up, even though the actual house that you see in the picture no longer exists (it was erased by Katrina). 

Thanks for the memories.