Even though I was only 4 years old, I did notice some unique features about our "new" home. Hey, it was new to us. Of course, the outside was aluminum, painted a slightly oxidized lavender and white. At 8 feet wide and 32 feet long, it was definitely smaller than our old place. But, it DID have a raised foundation. Well, actually, just a collection of concrete pylons placed at intervals along the frame with threaded steel brackets to level the trailer. Simple wooden steps led to the only door. I remember crawling under those steps and no-one would know where I was. For a kid my age, the pleasure of peeking through the small gaps between the 2x4's, watching people come and go or creaking up and down the steps oblivious to my presence was a rare treat. I had a sense of both omniscience and invisibility. The only problem with invisibility is that it makes mothers worry. I got into a trouble at least once for hiding out there just a little too long.
Inside, the walls were a honey-colored wood paneling that flexed if you leaned on it. Sturdy stuff. Another cool thing about this trailer was that it had holes in the roof. It isn't what you are thinking. There were a couple of hand-crank ceiling vents, that would open up a few inches to let in fresh air and a glimpse of the sky. I have never had hand crank-ceiling portals in a home since. (We did have real holes in the roof of our next trailer, but that is another story.) Sitting on the hitch on front of the trailer was a small roundish steel tank. I found out later it was where the gas came from for the stove. One of the big events of trailer park living was when the propane truck with its BIG tank would come around to fill up all the baby propane tanks.
The back of our trailer was up close to a steep bank planted with ice plant. At the top was a hedge of oleanders, a drainage ditch, and the road that led to the entrance of Trailer Village a few hundred feet from our place. The bank was perhaps 5-6 feet high and I could see traffic through the gaps in the plants. I developed a habit of amusing myself by tossing small rocks up onto the road until the inevitable happened and I hit a car going by. I dashed into the trailer, filled with certain dread that a car with a dent or cracked window and a livid driver would be pulling up in front of our home any minute. The car never came, and in the future I limited my rock-throwing to other venues.
So, there we were. One young mother and 4 small children living in less square footage than currently makes up my living room or the train car I ride to work most mornings. Where did we put everybody? I remember my brother's small crib up against the wall in the living room that also doubled as bedroom for Mom, myself and my little brother. Our two older sisters got the 'real' bedroom, which was as in the back. What little furniture we had seemed more than adequate in the narrow confines of the trailer.
For children, geography is destiny. Adults and circumstances determine your neighbors, your school, your home. On that little street in Trailer Village, I would make my first friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment