Monday, July 26, 2021

Moving Day

When I was in grade school my father told us we were going to be moving to a new town.  He said we were buying an ice cream shop with a house attached in the hills of Berkshire County in Massachusetts.  After I made this announcement at school, Randy, one of my closest friends, made me a wooden sign and said all I'd have to do is paint our house number on it once I knew the address.  The sign was simply a stake painted gold with a dark purple arrow-shaped piece of pine nailed to the tip. 
This move never happened, and I'm sure this was one of many schemes my father dreamed up over the years in his maggot-infested mind.  
One day I did something bad.  I had a Suzy Homemaker oven on top of a low dresser in the bedroom I shared with two brothers.  Why it was in our room and not our sister's room across the hall, I don't know, and why it was atop a dresser I'll never know.  I know these things didn't really get hot enough to "bake" anything in, but I ended up melting something plastic inside the oven and filling our soiled laundry- toy- and cat shit-strewn bedroom with acrid smoke, which drew the ire of my father.  He charged up the stairs and, seeing the sign my friend made, grabbed it and started whacking me with it, the blows landing wherever he could reach as I cowered in the corner.
Long story short, he broke the sign on me, so it was just as well that we never actually moved.

14 comments:

  1. I used to have similar childhood memories. Instead of dad, it was my mom who was the disciplinarian. Most have faded.

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  2. Wow. I'm sorry you had to live through that. But I must admit I always wanted an easy bake oven 😊

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    1. Thanks, Margaret. I don't remember much, but I think that oven got used for more than snacks.

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  3. Hi, b.a.f.!

    Man, that's tough to read, my friend. I remember my mom beating on me with both fists on one occasion when I was a teenager, but that was the extent of the physical abuse I endured in my youth. The verbal and mental abuse were another story. But, getting back to you, I'm very sorry you had such a crappy home life as a boy. The pendulum swung from excitement over moving into a house with an ice cream shop attached, to staying put in filthy conditions and being beaten with a wooden sign. Luckily the sign broke before you did. No one should be put through that.

    I like how you have this story labeled: Fond Memories. That's what you call "pollyannaish." :)

    I hope you have a nice week, good buddy b.a.f.

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    1. Thanks bunches, Shady. Fists were rarely used in our house. Pretty much whatever object was closest was used most times. Have yourself an awesome weekend.

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  4. A very tough read... and I agree with Shady, Luckily the sign broke before you did. Those Suzy Homemaker Ovens were dangerous, like many Toys of our Generation, I had one at the Antique Mall and couldn't believe small Children were allowed to play with such things, it really was like a convection Toaster Oven of it's Day and not really Safe for Children... at least you burnt the plastic and not yourself. One of our fav Toys was the Thingmaker by Mattel, I still have one and the Creeple Peeple Molds. My Brother and I had a thriving entrepreneur Kid Biz selling them to Friends at School for a Buck apiece! *LOL*

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    1. We had those toys as well! My scheme back then was decals. I'd get them free and would take them to school and make some cash, which I'd then use for all kinds of candy.

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  5. I'm sorry you went through that. I must admit, I was looking forward to hearing a story about an ice cream shop in the Berkshires. I white water rafted the Millers river once on a Boy Scout trip with Youngest, the Berkshires are beautiful.... and if you listen carefully you can almost here the banjo music playing...

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    1. Oh yeah, I remember many a middle-of-the-night trip picking up/dropping off said father at a facility somewhere in North Adams, I believe. I think he worked there, but he'd be away for days, then mom would have to load us all up in the station wagon to get him. There were lots of spots along the river where one could, most certainly, hear the banjos.

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  6. Toys back then were dangerous. I'm sorry that you went through that.

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    1. I know, right? Can you imagine such things for kids now?

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  7. Wow. "Maggot infested" is a sad vision. We owned lawn Jarts and had fun. Your tales make me grateful, for sure.

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  8. You know, Darla, it's probably a good thing we didn't have lawn jarts back when they weren't quite safe. I might've gotten an idea to use them for something they weren't intended for.

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