07/03/2023
The Ghetto, Yeh Right Pt.2
When I left last time we were leading up to a mysterious event happening on a mysterious day.
My Mom and I had moved in with my Grandparents and everything was right in my four year old life.
But waiting for this big event was driving me crazy!
Even singing "The Song That Never Ends" with Sherrie Lewis and Lamb chop couldn't sooth me.
But one morning there was so much tension and nervous energy corsing through our house that I just knew today was the day for whatever was coming.
I put my Annie Oakley outfit on complete with cowboy hat and cowboy boots, and stopped my grandma long enough to put my hair in pigtails.
Then I parked myself in the green swivel chair in front of our massive plate glass window that looked out over what seemed to me to be the whole world.
At night we could see the lights of San Francisco and the Bay Bridge.
But today all I wanted to see was what was coming up our hill.
I sat in that chair till I damn near p*ed my pants, and of course timing being what it is, as soon as I got on the pot I heard my Mom and my Grandpa yelling "They're here!! They're here!!"
I took care of business as fast as I could and raced back to the window.
A huge moving truck was lumbering into the yard, and behind it was a smaller car.
It took me a second to see who was in the car, and when I did I took off screaming out the front door!!
It was my Aunt Lori (really Gloria) and my cousins Rick, Randy and Rusty!!
I didn't know why they were here instead of Fullerton where they lived, and I didn't care.
We must have stood out there for a half hour laughing and crying and hugging before my Grandpa sheparded is into the house.
Over lunch I learned that my uncle, mean drunk that he was had finally crossed the line and my aunt had finally had enough and had left him.
Of course all the good parts of the story were in German, but I got the jist.
It was decided that my aunt and my cousins would live with us, as the occupancy of 1645 Beau Rivage Ave. Instantly rose from three to eight.
My Mom and Aunt Lori would sleep in the second bedroom, and us four kids would sleep on the Castro Convertible sofa in the front room.
We slept head to toe, every night getting in trouble for laughing (or "gushnothering" as my Grandma would yell down the hall.
My Grandma ran our house like a well oiled machine.
At 5:30 am she got up, made my Grandpa a huge breakfast, stuffed his black metal lunchbox, filled his thermos with hot coffee and sent him packing.
At 6 she rousted my Mom and Aunt out of bed, made them breakfast while they got ready for work, packed them a bag lunch and they were ready to roll by 8:00am.
Then she fed all of us, got us dressed and planted us in front of Captain Kangaroo so she could start on the house, which was immaculate I might add.
She washed, hung clothes, ironed, cleaned the bathroom and kitchen.
We watched game shows, colored, painted and seemed to be constantly under my poor Grandma's feet.
She took a break when her "programs" came on, and afterwards we were put down for a nap. One or more of us got in trouble for fooling around instead of napping, but somehow she got us to sleep.
I'd have given us all of us a shot of whiskey and made done with it.
By the time my Grandpa, my Mom and my Aunt got home from work, dinner was ready.
We were all in our jammies by eight, and enjoyed an hour of family TV time before calling it a night.
There's so many stories of the Beau Rivage 8 to be told it isn't even funny.
But I'll get there.
A few years ago my sister and I were talking about those days, all of which she missed by not being born yet, and she said in her holier then thou voice, "Well, if you lived like that now, you'd be called "Ghetto", like I've never been called worse!
I don't really care what they would have called us! I loved living all together. I never felt neglected or uncared for.
We had a roof over our heads, a huge yard to run around in, food to eat and clothes to wear.
I had my cousins to play with and watch cartoons together, and of course Rick and I joined forces. What one of us didn't think of, the other one did. These little escapades usually didn't end well, but that didn't stop us.
What I remember most is the closeness and the love that bounced off every wall of that house.
We had each other, and that was the best part of all.
Of course as time went on, My Aunt and my Mom got remarried and we moved out of Grandpa and Grandma's house.
Into the same apartment building, right next door to each other, a whopping 10 minutes from 1645 Beau Rivage Ave.
And that was fine with me.
And if that was Ghetto.....and if I could go back, I'd live in that Ghetto tell the day I die.
