Blog 2: Arrival in California

After long days of driving and a little over a week, we arrived in Leucadia, California in 1952. Near the edge of town, we came upon “The Liberty Trailer Park”. The Park was equipped with a real statue resembling the one in the New York Harbor and I remember a lot of red everywhere. Some of the details remain unclear, but I believe that there were small cabins that we stayed in because we didn't have a trailer. We weren't there long enough to make friends, but time enough to get our bearings and make some plans.

We had embarked on a vagabond life it appeared, and it would be a while before we had our own home and put down new roots. After the trailer park, we moved to Cardiff, to a duplex that years later I eventually identified as the Taco Auctioneer Restaurant. We were a hop and a skip from the beach and mom seemed to be happy that she made the decision to move to California. Dad? Well it was never obvious. Still the lack of snow pleased him. We kids loved the beach. What kids don’t love the beach? Apparently we also improvised a pool for my friend and I in a metal tub.  Mom made some friends too,  and I remember one in particular was an artist that lived next door. She painted ocean scenes, and I believe I still have a painting she did somewhere. 

Carol & Friend in Encinitas

Carol, Mom, Frankie in Cardiff

 

Frankie, Carol, Dad in Cardiff

  

From Cardiff we moved to Solana Beach. It was an odd apartment over a restaurant, on the highway no less, called the Teddy Bear Cafe. ( Pics later)  Dad was able to get a job with a company he worked for in Ohio, Bill Jack's. He was a tool and dye maker by trade, and the business was located close by, in a row of quonset huts on Cedros Avenue. Those same buildings where he worked are now a part of a thriving shopping district and the infamous Belly-Up, where up and coming as well as established celebrity musicians play.  

 

When my dad passed away, he left me with a wooden chest filled with metal tools that he designed and made.   The chest is old, and smells like a machine shop.  Nevertheless,  I haven't been able to discard the tools for 45 years now.  Michael is a good sport, because in addition to those things I mentioned, it is quite heavy to move around.

Dad's 1948 Chevrolet: Easter

 

Sometimes I didn’t know how my dad did it.   He worked full time, did the grocery shopping and the cooking. Mom didn’t drive, not so uncommon for that generation. Mom was afraid to drive because she had several small auto accidents shortly after she got her license as a teen. We accepted it.   Mom loved to wash clothes and dishes, and clean the house. She was a good mom, but by many accounts not very traditional.  You might say in some ways there were a few role reversals in my family.  My dad sure set the bar high for me.

Shortly thereafter, we moved again into another duplex in Solana Beach. The duplex was on South Sierra, situated on the bluff.  All of these moves took place within about a 3 year window. Dad kept working, mom kept moving. Mom did go to  work part time to save money so we could eventually buy a house.  She worked for Non-Linear Systems, inventor of the first digital voltmeter. The building was located next to a small airport behind the Del Mar Racetrack.    It seemed that each move brought us closer to the ocean which had been mom’s goal. Expensive condos now have replaced the humble homes that once occupied the same space.

A few things stand out, like how we got to bring Mary home in a glass box from the church for a week.  (Pics later) I need to brush up on that symbolism. Baking pies for my dad all the time in my Magic Chef electric toy oven, stands out too.    I was only 5 and unfortunately burnt most of the pies.  Once I started school and made friends, my brother launched a tradition of putting on birthday extravaganzas for me. (Pics later) I can still remember one of the boys that attended my birthday party gave me underwear.  I thought it was cool, but mom had the look. 

 

There were, unpleasant memories too at that duplex, like the Chicken Pox. One day some neighborhood boys dropped a big metal pipe on my head, though I couldn't say it was intentional.  Still,   I remember  a doctor meticulously removing small pieces of rust from my scalp prior to the 12 or more stitches I received.  While playing with my neighbors cat and her kitten in a tent I put together,  the mother cat scratched me to a point where I also needed  stitches.   I was learning about life the hard way and all too quickly. 

 

I went to kindergarten and the 1st grade at Central Elementary, then we moved again.  Later on that. 

Next stop:  Origins