For some reason we quickly moved out of our house in the later part of the summer in 1964. This was just before my 9th birthday. And I do not know why. Our moving journey was by car, and I think it was in a station wagon because of its size. I do not remember the car having a trunk, just lots of windows. I think we only packed clothes, some toys, some pots and pans and dishes, pillows and blankets. I know it wasn’t much because none of the windows were blocked.
I think everything else in the house was left. As I think about it today, one word comes to my mind. Strange! We pulled away from the house and drove down the street where I learned to ride a bike. We didn’t even take that. We drove through the town driving along the main street running through our little town of Mount Airy. We disappeared onto a road and then onto a highway heading to a new home state. I was now excited to see and explore new places, but I was also sad that I was leaving my friend, and his brother, my protector.
As the days grew long on the road, I remember stopping at little roadside motels during our weeklong journey to our new home, to Phoenix, Arizona. Yep, that was where we were headed. I remember that some of the motels had swimming pools in the ground which were new for me. Up to heading west I had only been to beaches in North Carolina and South Carolina for vacation. On this journey it was the first time I had gone into a swimming pool even though I could not swim. And I would not learn how to swim for some time. And the water was cold!
As a young eight-year-old boy, this journey to a new place so far away could be like my discovering of a new land, like Christopher Columbus. Would there be Indians like I was told? I was used to living in a small town since the early 1960’s. When we began to pass through large cities, I became overcome with just how big they were. And some cities had tall buildings that I didn’t know could be built. This was something very new for me. Maybe this was the beginning of my love for architecture.
As I dug deep into my memory of this journey, I remember going across the Mississippi River on a big steel bridge. I had never seen a bridge this big or a river as wide either. I looked at the water and saw how muddy it was. As we were crossing the river my mom said that she would read me a book about a boy and his tales of the Mississippi River when we got to our new home. What could this story be I wondered.
I remember a big city called Dallas when we were going through Texas. And this city was big. And it was hot outside, and inside the car too. On the drive the car windows were always open. And as we went further west the days became hotter, much hotter.
As the day passed after leaving Dallas, I remember my mom telling me that we were going to go through some interesting places in a state called New Mexico before we would get to Arizona. I do not remember the exact route we took, but it seemed to be through many states with many stops. Thinking back on this journey, I do believe that some of the trip was on that famous Route 66.
With all the very interesting places we stopped at during our journey westward, the most fascinating part of the journey for me was when we went to the Painted Desert and the Petrified Forest before heading to Phoenix. When we stopped and got out of the car it was very hot outside. My mom said we were not going to stay long.
My first impression was that the desert was full of big rocks and boulders laying close together. Where they were laying was in this beautiful shallow canyon in front of me, and there were multiple layers of various sand and light pastel colors in the background hills surrounding the shallow valleys. This was part of the Painted Desert I was told. I have never forgotten this image in my mind. For me this was the colorful perspective of what a desert looks like. I thought all deserts in Arizona looked like this.
Then I looked closer at the rocks and boulders in front of me. My mom said they were old trees. “What! They are rocks.” I replied. I didn’t see a tree. Then she took me closer to a big, rounded rock and told me to look closer. That is when I discovered that a rock could be an old tree, I just didn’t know how old. That would come later in my teenage years. And I did get a piece of history, a rock that was once a tree. As an eight-year-old boy this rock was special and would be something that I would hold on to for many years.
When we arrived in Phoenix we went to a group of buildings. I was told that these were apartment buildings that are grouped together. I had not seen anything like this. It was an apartment complex. And the apartment buildings had a swimming pool in the ground between them. I was so excited. I had now been in several swimming pools from our journey west and wanted to learn how to swim. I was so excited. And there were other kids playing outside these buildings and in the pool. I wondered if any of them might become new friends. I hoped so. My birthday was just a couple weeks away.
We went into our new home, an apartment house with two bedrooms. The bedrooms had windows that looked out towards the pool. This was a nice place. And it was cool inside our new apartment house, and it was very hot outside. All the rooms had furniture. I didn’t know where it came from.
It was August and we were now going to live in the desert…
“Follow my story for new vignettes”