The Green House--Second One from the Corner

So about the house where I grew up...

We lived at 13373 Osborne Street in Pacoima, California. We moved to the San Fernando Valley when I was but six months old, although I have no memory of the move. It was post World War II and neighborhoods were springing up all over the valley to give the GIs a chance to come stateside, get a good job, and give the men and women who served an opportunity to get their version of the American dream. White picket fence. The whole tamale.

The neighborhoods were sprinkled throughout the valley as I said, nestled amidst orchards filled with orange, apricot, plum, peach, and pear trees. It was suburbs in the country, the best of both worlds.

Our house was green with white trim, and my dad worked hard at keeping our landscaping well trimmed and edged. It was a time when people really valued their homes and property, and our neighbors worked equally hard on their yards. Speaking of yards, it was a different world back then and if we were playing outside there was just as much of a chance to find us in a neighbor's yard as there was to find us in our own. It was safe, and everyone looked out for everyone else's kids. Like I said, it was a different world back then.

The house had a large front porch that ran along almost the entire front of the house. On hot summer nights, we would all go outside and the adults in the neighborhood would congregate on our porch or someone else's, and the kids would play hide and seek in the dark until someone decided it was time to call it a night. We knew our neighbors. Very different from today.

Another thing about the porch, we kids would spend countless hours getting brave enough to jump off the porch--"One for the money. Two for the show. Three to get ready and four to go." Jump on "go" or you were a real chicken for sure.

The house was tiny by today's standards. Probably about 800 square feet or so. There was a tiny little kitchen that was big enough to hold the stove, refrigerator and the kitchen table where we ate. In the kitchen there was a closet that held a washing machine. No dryer. My mom had a clothesline outside where she hung numerous loads of laundry each week.

The living room seemed huge when I was little, but I realize now it was probably a very small room. Hardwood floors for many years until we finally got carpeting later on. The living room had a back door that opened onto our patio and backyard.

There were two bedrooms, both were probably about 12 x 12. My sisters and I shared one room, and mom and dad had the other. Somehow we managed to keep all of our clothes and toys in there, and never felt cramped. Amazing, isn't it? By the time there were three of us girls, dad had converted our attached garage into another bedroom. We felt like we were really spread out with all that space!

There was one bathroom, and by the time my youngest sister was born, mom and dad decided that we really needed to find a bigger house. So when I was almost 12, we moved to a different house in Mission Hills, California.

One interesting thing that was different about the houses back then was that our phone was located in the hallway, and there was a "phone desk" in the hall. The phone was on top of the desk, and there was a little area underneath (think of how a school desk is) to hold a phone book. Attached to the desk was a little bench for you to sit on as you spoke.

Another interesting thing was that it had a hallway furnace that heated the whole house. It was the kind of furnace that was in the floor with the heat coming up. On cold days, we would stand on it until we would get so hot we couldn't stand it anymore and then we would move. On. Off. On. Off. It is how we kept warm. One time, I had the stomach flu and I threw up in the furnace. Oh my! The stuff I spewed out cooked instantly on the metal furnace and filled the house with a yucky stench. I don't know if my mother ever forgave me for that! :-)