I don't think it was a common term, but I have heard a couple of people call them "bowling alley" houses.
When I was attending the Defense Language Institute, West Coast (DLIWC), in Monterey, California in 1983-84, studying Polish, my family and I were given quarters on Fort Ord. Because of the size of our family, three kids, two cats, and a dog...okay, the animals didn't count...we were given a four-bedroom home.
Originally there were not any of these on Fort Ord, and a lot of the housing was duplexes with only a couple of bedrooms. Each duplex had a carport on each end. However, over the years, the Army had the dividing walls knocked out of some of the duplexes and converted one of the carports into a master bedroom.
Since the original duplexes had a single hallway running the entire length of the house, when they took out the dividing wall, you wound up with one awfully long home with a verrrry long hallway running from the living room to the master bedroom. Hence the nickname, "bowling alley house".
It was nice on Fort Ord. Quiet, pretty, just minutes from Monterey Bay and downtown Monterey itself. One of the great things is that we did not have...or need...an air conditioner.
The kids liked the house, especially the pink-blooming ice plant in the back yard, which was long and narrow, like the house. However, Clancy liked it even better.
Clancy was our crazy cat. Lean to the point of scrawny and slightly mad, Clancy loved to run full-tilt down the hall, hit the living room floor, and slam on brakes. Trouble was, the living room floor was a very slick wood parquet. Although Clancy would go through the normal stopping process, on that floor it wouldn't work. Scrabbling madly, Clancy would slide at high speed across the living room floor and smash into the far wall.
Then, the mad Irish-cat Clancy would shake his head for a second almost like Tom in a Tom and Jerry cartoon, and then he would run back down to the bedroom for another shot.
We had given him the name "Clancy" because he had that lean appearance and slightly mad look which reminded us of a man named Clancy with whom we had once worked.
Sadly, one morning I got up and walked into the living room and found Clancy dead on the living room floor. We had no idea what he died from, but I have often wondered if he took one trip too many down the hallway at the bowling alley house.
Showing posts with label california. Show all posts
Showing posts with label california. Show all posts
Monday, October 15, 2012
Monday, December 13, 2010
by Donovan Baldwin
http://nodiet4me.com
I am 65 now, and, on Sundays, I take my 92-year-old mother, who no longer drives, to church. Normally, I dress well, as one should when going to church with his mother, no matter what his age, but today I have chores elsewhere afterwards and will not have an opportunity to change, so I made some concessions.
One concession was the shoes.
The ones I was going to wear this morning looked a little bad. They were supposed to be black, but had acquired a patina of age and disuse, plus a smattering of some unidentified white liquid from some previous task.
So, I got out the little shoeshine kit.
That was the first memory.
The first thing I saw was my father's "black" shoe brush. He died back in '81, but I still have all his shoeshine stuff. I knew it was his "black" brush because the label said so!
It was probablhy sometime back in the early 60's when my mom gave my dad the Dymo LableMaker for Christmas. He proceeded to go around the house labeling things. Until my mother moved out of the house in 1983 after his death two years earlier, one kitchen cabinet still had a label which told the world, with a proud red, though fading, label, that it was, indeed, a "KITCHEN CABINET".
Not all his labeling was done as a joke, however. Two things I still have are his two shoe brushes labeled "BLACK" and "BROWN" so he wouldn't accidently pick up the wrong one and ruin his shine.
However, that wasn't the extent of my memories. As I thought of the home where I grew up at the corner of Cary's Lane and Bayshore Drive in Warrington, Florida, and my normally staid and stolid father's sometimes whimsical humor, I smelled the shoe polish itself.
The smell, the spreading of the polish, and the buffing of the shoes triggered a kaleidescope of memories of an unknown number of shoes and boots shined during my 21 years in the military. Attached to those memories were places I have been, sights I have seen, and people I have known over the last 44 years.
In seconds, I traveled to Fort Jackson, South Carolina, to Monterey, California, to San Angelo, Texas, and from there to Bad Aibling, Germany. I crossed the ocean four times, went back to California and Germany again, and eventually returned home.
I saw the faces and heard the voices of Kevin, Bill, Frank, Olga, Wanda, Danka, Alex and a myriad of others whose paths had crossed mine on the way to wherever they are now. I remembered snow and sunshine, orchards and deserts, oceans, lakes, rivers, streams, and roads...lots of roads.
So much had happened in my life.
It only took a few minutes, and the memories began to fade as I finished shining my shoes and sealed polish, brush, and dauber back in the plastic case and put it back in the closet.
It had been a pleasant trip, a sad trip, and more interesting than anything I have seen on TV for years.
Later, when I took my mother to Mass, I thought of all the Masses I had attended and served as an Altar Boy at St. Thomas More in Warrington..and the funerals.
Time to change the channel, I guess, but who needs TV if you have shoe polish and some memories?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Donovan Baldwin is a freelance writer currently living with his wife, dog, and memories near Dallas, Texas. He is a University of West Florida alumnus (BA Accounting 1973), and is retired from the military after 21 years of service. He has been an accountant for the Florida State Department of Education, a Fiscal Consultant, a Business Manager, and has held various other positions, including being a trainer for a major national company. He offers a line of do it yourself legal software which can be seen at http://legalhelp.xtramoney4me.net.
Originally published on SearchWarp.com for Donovan Baldwin Sunday, July 04, 2010
Article Source: A Simple Act Breeds a Sea of Memories
http://nodiet4me.com
I am 65 now, and, on Sundays, I take my 92-year-old mother, who no longer drives, to church. Normally, I dress well, as one should when going to church with his mother, no matter what his age, but today I have chores elsewhere afterwards and will not have an opportunity to change, so I made some concessions.
One concession was the shoes.
The ones I was going to wear this morning looked a little bad. They were supposed to be black, but had acquired a patina of age and disuse, plus a smattering of some unidentified white liquid from some previous task.
So, I got out the little shoeshine kit.
That was the first memory.
The first thing I saw was my father's "black" shoe brush. He died back in '81, but I still have all his shoeshine stuff. I knew it was his "black" brush because the label said so!
It was probablhy sometime back in the early 60's when my mom gave my dad the Dymo LableMaker for Christmas. He proceeded to go around the house labeling things. Until my mother moved out of the house in 1983 after his death two years earlier, one kitchen cabinet still had a label which told the world, with a proud red, though fading, label, that it was, indeed, a "KITCHEN CABINET".
Not all his labeling was done as a joke, however. Two things I still have are his two shoe brushes labeled "BLACK" and "BROWN" so he wouldn't accidently pick up the wrong one and ruin his shine.
However, that wasn't the extent of my memories. As I thought of the home where I grew up at the corner of Cary's Lane and Bayshore Drive in Warrington, Florida, and my normally staid and stolid father's sometimes whimsical humor, I smelled the shoe polish itself.
The smell, the spreading of the polish, and the buffing of the shoes triggered a kaleidescope of memories of an unknown number of shoes and boots shined during my 21 years in the military. Attached to those memories were places I have been, sights I have seen, and people I have known over the last 44 years.
In seconds, I traveled to Fort Jackson, South Carolina, to Monterey, California, to San Angelo, Texas, and from there to Bad Aibling, Germany. I crossed the ocean four times, went back to California and Germany again, and eventually returned home.
I saw the faces and heard the voices of Kevin, Bill, Frank, Olga, Wanda, Danka, Alex and a myriad of others whose paths had crossed mine on the way to wherever they are now. I remembered snow and sunshine, orchards and deserts, oceans, lakes, rivers, streams, and roads...lots of roads.
So much had happened in my life.
It only took a few minutes, and the memories began to fade as I finished shining my shoes and sealed polish, brush, and dauber back in the plastic case and put it back in the closet.
It had been a pleasant trip, a sad trip, and more interesting than anything I have seen on TV for years.
Later, when I took my mother to Mass, I thought of all the Masses I had attended and served as an Altar Boy at St. Thomas More in Warrington..and the funerals.
Time to change the channel, I guess, but who needs TV if you have shoe polish and some memories?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Donovan Baldwin is a freelance writer currently living with his wife, dog, and memories near Dallas, Texas. He is a University of West Florida alumnus (BA Accounting 1973), and is retired from the military after 21 years of service. He has been an accountant for the Florida State Department of Education, a Fiscal Consultant, a Business Manager, and has held various other positions, including being a trainer for a major national company. He offers a line of do it yourself legal software which can be seen at http://legalhelp.xtramoney4me.net.
Originally published on SearchWarp.com for Donovan Baldwin Sunday, July 04, 2010
Article Source: A Simple Act Breeds a Sea of Memories
Thursday, November 5, 2009
November 5 - An Anniversary of Sorts
I enlisted in the U.S. Army in Montgomery, Alabama, August 30, 1966. They put me on a bus which took me to Fort Jackson, South Carolina, where I was housed in a tent at the reception station for a couple of days until I was assigned to a Basic Combat Training unit, Company D, 3rd Battalion, 1st Training Brigade, or "D-3-1! Best damn company on the hill! Sir!"
While waiting in tent city, I began to be assimilated into the army culture. I got yelled at, got my head shaved, got cursed at, and, when I accidentally called a Drill Sergeant "Sir", got told at a very close range, "Don't call me 'sir'. I work for a living."
I also got to experience the pure joy of the army mess hall, and the communal latrine.
Actually, for basic food, the mess hall was not bad. Plenty to eat, but, as the signs exhorted, "Take what you want but eat what you take" was the rule of the day. Also, eating in silence. They had to push a lot of people through what was a rather small mess hall, so you ate your food and got out. Fortunately, at later assignments, the army actually tried to make dining a relatively enjoyable experience, and a meal with your friends included plenty of conversation for seasoning.
The latrine, on the other hand....
How do I say this?
It was a large, drafty, wooden building. There was a shower at one end...essentially a large room with several very basic (maybe that's why it was called "basic"...basic food, basic showers, basic beds, basic toilets, etc.) shower heads. The shower took up about one-third of the building. The other two-thirds was a large room with sinks along one wall, and toilets, or should I say toilet seats, around the others.
Although AT&T had not come out with the ad yet in 1966, it gives new meaning to the phrase "reach out and touch someone"!
There were no stalls, no doors, no walls separating the toilets. You sat side-by-side with, or directly accross the room from, others engaged in the same activity.
As with every place in the military, there were more signs, but the ones I remember most vividly were the ones which said something to the effect, "Stand Up Before Flushing". I wondered about that one for a couple of minutes until someone did - flush while still seated, that is.
Apparently, they took the water for flushing toilets directly from the hot water line which went to the shower.
He got up rather quickly as hot water splashed against...ahem...delicate areas. Perhaps "leaped up" would be a better description than "got up".
I will write more about basic training later, but to get back to the anniversary mentioned in the title:
I graduated basic training on November 4, 1966. I had orders to report to the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, California to study German for six months. On the morning of November 5, 43 years ago today, a hungover Drill Sergeant drove me to the airport in Columbia, South Carolina where I boarded a plane for Charleston, where I changed planes. I changed one more time, I don't remember where, but believe it was Chicago, and the third flight took me over the Rockies to San Franciso, where I changed planes again to a little puddle jumper which took me to the Monterey airport.
This was the first time in my life that I had been in an airplane, my first trip to California (of the many in my lifetime), and the first (and fortunately last) time I got airsick.
Not much of a story, perhaps, but it's mine, and I'm sticking to it.
======================
Over 40? Check out my other blog Fitness After 40.
While waiting in tent city, I began to be assimilated into the army culture. I got yelled at, got my head shaved, got cursed at, and, when I accidentally called a Drill Sergeant "Sir", got told at a very close range, "Don't call me 'sir'. I work for a living."
I also got to experience the pure joy of the army mess hall, and the communal latrine.
Actually, for basic food, the mess hall was not bad. Plenty to eat, but, as the signs exhorted, "Take what you want but eat what you take" was the rule of the day. Also, eating in silence. They had to push a lot of people through what was a rather small mess hall, so you ate your food and got out. Fortunately, at later assignments, the army actually tried to make dining a relatively enjoyable experience, and a meal with your friends included plenty of conversation for seasoning.
The latrine, on the other hand....
How do I say this?
It was a large, drafty, wooden building. There was a shower at one end...essentially a large room with several very basic (maybe that's why it was called "basic"...basic food, basic showers, basic beds, basic toilets, etc.) shower heads. The shower took up about one-third of the building. The other two-thirds was a large room with sinks along one wall, and toilets, or should I say toilet seats, around the others.
Although AT&T had not come out with the ad yet in 1966, it gives new meaning to the phrase "reach out and touch someone"!
There were no stalls, no doors, no walls separating the toilets. You sat side-by-side with, or directly accross the room from, others engaged in the same activity.
As with every place in the military, there were more signs, but the ones I remember most vividly were the ones which said something to the effect, "Stand Up Before Flushing". I wondered about that one for a couple of minutes until someone did - flush while still seated, that is.
Apparently, they took the water for flushing toilets directly from the hot water line which went to the shower.
He got up rather quickly as hot water splashed against...ahem...delicate areas. Perhaps "leaped up" would be a better description than "got up".
I will write more about basic training later, but to get back to the anniversary mentioned in the title:
I graduated basic training on November 4, 1966. I had orders to report to the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, California to study German for six months. On the morning of November 5, 43 years ago today, a hungover Drill Sergeant drove me to the airport in Columbia, South Carolina where I boarded a plane for Charleston, where I changed planes. I changed one more time, I don't remember where, but believe it was Chicago, and the third flight took me over the Rockies to San Franciso, where I changed planes again to a little puddle jumper which took me to the Monterey airport.
This was the first time in my life that I had been in an airplane, my first trip to California (of the many in my lifetime), and the first (and fortunately last) time I got airsick.
Not much of a story, perhaps, but it's mine, and I'm sticking to it.
======================
Over 40? Check out my other blog Fitness After 40.
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