Yes, there was a Blueberry Hill, in winter it was a great sledding site, in summer it was the blueberry barrens, an area where blueberries were harvested. When I grew up we didn't have only two television channels, only a few radio stations, and most of life centered around the community. We lived in an old house, on 3 acres, on the Donnell's Pond Road. BTW, this pond covered many square miles, and was as deep as a couple of hundred feet in places. Brook trout were plentiful, so were wild berries, raspberries, blackberries, strawberries, and checker berries (wintergreen). We had areas where old houses had been, and the old roase bushed would bloom in spring. We had apple trees, sometimes growing wild in the meadows, many would be considered heirloom varieties now. The old house was lath and plaster, not drywall, with oak floors, and wainscoting and chair rails part of the structure. We had a hand pump in the pantry for water (sometimes you had to prime it) and a wood stove for cooking and heat. Most of the furnishings came with the house and were antiques to some but everyday stuff to us. Our first phone was a wall phone powere by batteries and had a crank you turned to get the operator. We then progressed to a party line, our ring was two longs and a short. When I left there in 1959 we had just got direct dialing, color TV was just starting up (but we didn't have it), and we bought our first transistor radio for our big adventure. We left Maine that winter, headed west, with everything we owned packed into a 1957 Plymouth Belvedere. We went down the East Coast, the car broke down in Baltimore, where segregation still was defacto, but very noticeable. We bought a new car, and the journey continued. On the Washington DC, then off through Virginia, then down to the Gulf and warmer weather. This was the pre-civil rights South. I spent a month in Meridian Mississippi staying with an aunt while my parents went on to Arizona. While staying there we saw shanty towns, we saw the cities. My uncke was quick to remind me that I was a Yankee and he didn't want me embarrassing him in the community. I was not to play with (insert the N word here). My dad asked him why he didn't have a fork lift to load his trucks (he had a trucking company) and he said it was cheaper to hire (insert the N word here). The signs were out, white and colored drinking fountains, separate entrances to the hotels, You saw two different worlds, one white, one black. Eventually we left the South and got to Texas, still south but not as noticeable. In El Paso I had my first Mexican food. On through New Mexico, through Arizona, and on to California. We spent our first night in Indio, then the next few days we drove up the coast, as far as San Luis Obispo on old highway 101. We turned south again and settled in Orange, where my Dad got a job and we found an apartment. Such was the start of my California life.
Posted on Dreamwidth
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
