"I've forgotten more than you've learned."
Well, this might be true as I begin this journal journey to share my life story with you: Kade, Kyle and Kaylyn.
On ride home from a Christmas eve gathering on the Northshore, I was chatting with Kade and realized how little my children know about my life story.
I've said for a long time, I would love to know more about my mom and dad's history. I've only gotten fuzzy snapshots of their life from my sisters, primarily Norma, though Kathy is the true historian of our family.
Wow. Where do I start.
After my divorce, I started to see a Christian therapist to deal with the grief, the anger, and more. But after only a few sessions, I stopped. But during that time, he said I should begin a re-discovery of my life, jotting down all that I could remember from various time periods. I began to do this, and was surprised how little I could recall from my pre-teen years.
So, gentlemen, rev those engines, and here we go again!
Red-brick with terrazzo floors.
Those are the outstanding features about my 2nd childhood house on Homestead Avenue.
When I was born, my parents, Gloria Quinn and Harry Stanley Marcon, lived on Hessmer, in the heart of what is now Old Metairie, not far from St. Catherine school. I really have no memories of this house, aside from black & white photos now stored deep in my attic.
The Homestead house though.. I have fond memories of neighborhood life there.
The house sat only 2 streets over from my elementary school, JC Ellis, and I had 2 of my best friends, Mark Schexnaildre and Mike Hoover, within 1 block too.
I don't remember much of the interior of the Homestead house, likely because I literally lived outside.
There was a large fig tree in our backyard, one right next to the one-car/patio style garage. The tree was large, green domed-shaped, and I would crawl inside the outer layer and pretend it was a Batman cave, even drawing with permanent markers on the leaves, all the different devices of my batcave!
And sneaking out the rear of my bat cave, I would sneak and make small fires in the creepy dark alley behind the garage. For some odd reason, I was fascinated with small fires.
Right in front of the fig tree, was a palmetto tree, with one long branch that reached out across the yard. We'd climb up into it, and see how high we could get and then jump from it. Climbing any and all very tall trees always was an adventures I didn't shy from.
Mark, Mike and I also would always climb over and through neighbors yards. Why walk all around houses and in the street, when you can climb over fences? Somehow we dodged getting attacked by dogs.
Mark and I would remain best friends until I suddenly was yanked from 2nd grade and moved to Texas and remained so upon my return to Louisiana (more to come on this...) I would sleep over his house all the time. And in class, he and I had a running competition to see who could finish work first. We were always 1st and 2nd to raise our hands.
Elementary school was uneventful, though I was very good at marbles. I'd bring my sack of glass marbles, and we'd play at recess.
My food experimentations began at 1st and 2nd grade lunch: I would always put different chips, mostly potato chips, on my luncheon meat or bologna sandwiches. and oh, the chocolate milk at school lunch.. wow so good.
