At some point in my childhood (one of my goals will be to piece some dates together, but this was probably around 1990), my father, sister, and I lived in this house. Aside from the overgrown landscape, it looks in this photograph very much the same as it did then. It was probably the worst house we lived in during my childhood. I know my dad wasn't very proud of it, but it was all we could find at the time. We had just moved from Leesville, LA to be closer to our mother and some of my dad's old biker buddies from our time in California (another chapter).
Interestingly, what got me thinking about this old house on Shallowford Road in Moss Point, MS, was the Nintendo Classic craze that we just experienced this past Christmas, and my recent search for a heater for my garage. It was in this house that my sister received a shiny new NES for Christmas. I remember sitting on the floor in front of our television playing Super Mario Bros and Duck Hunt for hours on end. We also sat in front of an incredibly dangerous but toasty electric space heater. You know...the kind with the heating element that gets red hot and is just inches away from a super-hot protective metal grille. The heaters (I think we had 3 of them) were important, though, since the house could get quite cold in the winter. This was the first time I remember using blankets for doors. I complain today about a tiny draft that might leak through the edge of a window on a windy night, but you could literally see the dirt foundation through the broken floor boards of this house.
We had a roommate named Rusty. I think he was one of my dad's old pals. Perhaps he helped us move in exchange for a place to stay for awhile. Rusty worked at Domino's pizza. One night, for some reason, Rusty brought home a huge bag of sourdough from work. I wish I knew what he intended to do with it, because our dog, Cutter, had different plans. The next morning, we found Cutter out on the porch, groaning with a clearly-enlarged abdomen. He was blowing up like that gal on Willy Wonka. He had eaten most of the bag of sourdough; it must've been tasty. Obviously, we didn't have money for a vet (we just blew it all on an NES, remember?), so my dad made a few phone calls and decided that we needed to relieve the gas ourselves. Over the next several hours, Rusty used the handle of a blush brush and some Vaseline to help the little guy toot his way to safety. Looking back, we probably should have tried to call a vet instead, but Cutter made it and lived a long, happy life.
I dug my first mailbox hole with a pair of posthole diggers at that house. Man, does that work suck! I probably wouldn't remember it if we hadn't cut an underground phone line in the process. I'm not sure why, but our phone was in my mother's name at the time. To this day, my mother still can't get a phone line in her name because she hasn't been able to pay the insane amount of money they tried to charge her for repairs. I've thought about trying to pay for the damages, but it wasn't really my fault (my dad told me where to dig), I have no idea how much money they want, and I definitely don't want them coming after me too if I can't afford it! I'm sorry Mom.
I'm not sure what God had planned for us at that house, but I do know that the experience from Shallowford Road has given me an incredible appreciation for everything I'm blessed with today...a vivid reminder that my life today is better by a mile.
No comments:
Post a Comment