The House on Englewood

Telling my daughter about my life growing up, I think to myself that maybe I didn't have a very eventful story to tell.  But looking at it through the eyes of someone else, namely Beth, I realize how different that youth of mine was compared to so many of today's youth.  I grew up on Englewood Ave., in Kenmore, a suburb of Buffalo, New York.  Both sets of my grandparents as well as my dad were immigrants from Germany, and my mother often spoke German and kept in touch with relatives in Germany, writing and speaking in German.  I unfortunately did not grow up speaking it! My father was a bricklayer, but because he was older, he was one of the last on the draft list and ended up not being drafted into WWII. Being a bricklayer, he was basically out of work every winter, and with the war affecting everything from jobs to housing to cost of living, etc, my family rented that duplex until I was 17 before buying a house on Puritan Rd, which is the house my children remember visiting. My father got a job building tract homes for returning veterans, but never really made very much money, I think it was about $100 per week.  My sister Lynette and I lived through the recession and WWII in this duplex.

One of my most vivid memories growing up in this duplex was paying the rent.  My father and I would take the $35 rent each month over to the landlord's house.  He would be sitting in his basement, smoking by the furnace, and would ask my dad to come in and have a drink with him.  He liked my dad and me, and it was always something I looked forward to doing.

Another memory was during the war.  One night my mother was out somewhere, my father was probably out doing his air raid warden duties, and my aunt Betty was there tending.  We would often go sit on the front stoop and watch the wardens do their jobs, and that night she was carrying me down the stairs and tripped.  We both went flying, she of course trying to protect me as we tumbled.  Luckily neither one of us was hurt too bad.

Growing up, we considered ourselves city folk, even though we weren't really in the city.  On Sundays we would visit my uncles who had moved back to the farm after returning from the war.  The farm had no indoor plumbing or electricity.  When we stayed indoors, we sat around with gas lamps, having to pump water when needed, and using the outhouse when necessary. It was much more fun to play outside or in the barn the whole time! They had horses and pigs, grew grapes and fruit trees.  Many good memories of playing with my cousins.  I actually remember one of our "games" being playing "church".  My cousins Bob and Judy and I would pretend to be the preacher, pass the collection plate, and be the audience....amazing what 3 kids could come up with.