To be quite honest I believe about 20% of things people say on a message board although the story your referencing I do believe only because its the 2nd or maybe 3rd time you said it on here and it has not changed 1 bit to what I remember so therefore your the best story teller the world ever known or your just telling the truth..
Actually
peezy, although I've referenced other things in posts about my childhood and the woman who raised me, I had never before made any reference to having lived in the project on Deckenbach Rd.
No one who knows me in real life -- even lifelong friends -- knows anything concerning that 2 year period. I've never seen one photo in a family album that depicted the place, nor could I ever remember a conversation with any relative who volunteered to talk about it.
Had I not gone to the Columbus Dispatch and met a lady who was like a town historian, I would have gone to my grave not even knowing where the place had existed because the city of Columbus became so ashamed of the buildings they obliterated them, essentially bulldozed them off the Face of the Earth. They placed no plaques. No commemorations. I guess they hoped people would just forget.
I lost track of how many times I closed my eyes and tried to imagine a little more detail, but only remembered small bits and pieces. That was probably best. I finally tried to let it go.
My 89 year old Great Aunt Mae was living in assisted care in Columbus. She was the youngest sister of my Mom's mom and the only person alive who could possibly fill in the blanks.
I flew up to Ohio in December, 2002 for what turned out to be our final visit. As we sat next to each other I took her hand in mine and said, "Aunt Mae, I was hoping you could tell me about the time when Mom and I lived on Deckenbach Rd. There are no photographs anywhere and I can remember very little. Do you remember the place at all?"
She pursed her lips tightly and nodded her head. Tears began running down her cheeks.
"Everyone in our family had very little, but no one in our family had ever lived in a place like that. I think the city charged 3 dollars a week. The place was run down and filthy, but your Mother scrubbed it until the paint came off the walls.
None of us wanted to go there. Your grandfather would drive over and pick the two of you up so you could come visit the rest of us. It's good that you don't recall much.'
Finally someone over there was murdered. Your grandmother called me up and we rode over on the bus the next day. We sat down with your Mother and told her that she needed to move to a safer place. Your mom said the place was all that she could afford. So we told her the family would help out. I could have spared 2 or 3 dollars a week and your Grandfather could have done the same.
But no, your Mom was far too proud for that. She'd been like that from day she was born. So your grandmother told your Mom she could stay if she wanted, but we were going to take you with us.
Next thing we knew, she stood up, shielded you behind her, and threw us out. She was so mad at your grandmother she couldn't see straight. We left before things got any worse.
A month or two later, a bad fire burned one of the buildings and the police arrested a guy for setting it. The guy's wife and a couple of their kids got burned and went into the hospital. Your grandfather called me up and said that was it, he was going to go get you. I told him I'd ride along. Your Uncle Cecil and Uncle Ray also agreed to come. When your Mom lost her temper, she'd fight like a hellcat.
When we got there, your Mother told us to leave and grabbed a rolling-pin. I ran outside, found a phone booth and called the police. Two or three squad cars pulled up. They came in and told your Mother that if she didn't hand over the rolling-pin, they'd take her to jail.
She gave in. Curt brought her over to my place. I let have my couch and she laid and cried her eyes out. You went with Curt and probably slept on their sofa. You were probably too young to remember. Other than going back to pick up your belongings, that's the last time any of the us stepped foot there.
Your grandmother found an older couple named 'Burns' who lived on Central Avenue. They had a spare bedroom to rent. I think they wanted 5 dollars a week for room and board. We paid them for a week and took your Mother over.
Mr. Burns story to your Mom was that he and his wife would give her free room and board in exchange for light housekeeping work. Your Mom, who had no idea the cost was $5 a week told him she would pay him $3 dollars a week for the room and do as much housework as they needed done for the board (food). Your grandmother and I made up the $2 difference each week and I doubt that your mother ever knew the difference.
One week I stopped by to give Mr. Burns the $4 we owed for the next couple weeks and he refused to accept the money. His wife said the house was completely spotless. Your mom had worked her fingers to bone.
But that's how your Mother always lived, everything had to be spotless, the clothes had to be pressed and hung and she'd accept no form of charity. She always had to pay her own way. She was always the proudest and most determined person in the whole family.
I know you had things tough as a child and very little went smoothly, but your Mom was a firm believer that life could only be conquered by very tough people. I believe she tried to mold you in her own image and she did a remarkable job.
I smiled and said, "Aunt Mae, I lived with her for 18 years. She was the light of my life ... and still is. I always looked forward to taking care of her and making her life better as repayment for her sacrifices, but always wondered how I'd be able to pull it off. How could I have given her a house, for instance? She'd always take her purse out and refuse to allow anyone to pay for her dinner. And who knows better than you, there was no way in the world to ever win an argument with her."
"Oh no, there was no way to win do that. Her mother, my hard-headed older sister was the only one who'd even try ... and she finally gave up.
* * * * * * *
Aunt Mae went to Heaven in February, 2003 and joined Mom who passed in May, 1971
Both of them attended my graduation ceremonies at OSU in March of 1971
If I get to Heaven,
peezy the first question I'll ask my Mom is this, "I heard the story about you, the rolling pin, Grandpa Curt, Uncle Ray and Uncle Cecil on Deckenbach Rd. Tell me this. If the cops hadn't shown up, how in the world would that one have turned out?"
* * * * * * *
