Places I've lived - a Google street view tour

At left: I am born. (First place I lived, according to my birth certificate. There were 5-7 other people living there too, but not certain of the exact number. It's the house in the middle.)



I have finally learned how to make photos of screen shots. Unfortunately, I have not figured out how to crop the picture in Microsoft Paint. If you goof up, makes a big HOLE on the screen! Aiyee!

To celebrate my newfound, hard-won knowledge (took all day!) -- here are some screen shots of places I've lived, lifted wholesale from the redoubtable Google Street View. You could DIE from all the excitement.

I initially did these as a test, and then when I saw the finished result, decided to post them here. I apologize in advance for the rather blah nature of these locales; I'm sorry my life hasn't been lived in particularly picturesque spots. Instead, you get the complete working class tour of OHIO. All of these locations are in Columbus, except for the paper mill. (I guess Massillon, Ohio, is not big enough to get the full Google Street View treatment yet?) I lived in all of these places before the age of 25... my family didn't like to stay in one place. In pre-digital days, it was much harder (if not impossible) for bill collectors to find you if you moved around all the time.

I admit the houses and apartments look rather boring, but my family livened up the block, let me assure you.

I did not attempt to put these in chronological order, since I am not even 100% sure what the order IS, and I know I'd get it messed up. But I did manage to put the schools last, which is saying something!

PS: You can click to enlarge, I just discovered.

Below:

1) This apartment building is currently being torn down or already has been; HERE is a relatively current Facebook photo mid-demolition. (I am not sure if that link will show up or not, some Facebook photos link acceptably and some don't; not sure of the rhyme or reason for that.)

There wasn't any message from God on the building while I lived there, though.

2) I think we were 3rd flat from the end on the right. This is the first place my baby ever lived!

3) This is where I had my first drug overdose as a teenager. Ah, memories. We lived in the apartment furthest from the road, Apt. D.

I really liked it here, despite some accidental mucking around with mama's pills. (Hey, nobody's perfect.)

4) The layout of the apartment in #3, reminded me of this one, where I lived when I started kindergarten. (See, this is why I told you it could never be chronological. Are you kidding?)

5) Ogden Avenue on the Hilltop, the last place I lived before moving south. I loved this old house, which my grandmother was buying on "land contract"--which I never understood. They foreclosed on it anyway.

It did not have that awful white screen on the porch--but I will admit that the ugly green color is the same... mercifully it has faded a bit over time.

6) My mother's house (also on the Hilltop), which was not blue and would never be blue if my mother was still alive. :( She will haunt those poor people for painting it that color!

Although it's 10 rooms, with full attic, garage and basement, the age and location of the house made it a hard-sell... I did not try to stop the foreclosure, but it broke my heart. My mother owned this house since the mid-70s.

7) Duplex with red doors, we lived on the right side. This is where my child was conceived! (more than you really wanted to know)

8) This used to be the Rustic Tavern on West Broad Street, owned by my aunt Ruth. It looked very different then. My mother sang in the country-and-western house-band there, and we lived upstairs.

This is where I first heard Last Date, since I could hear it through the ceiling, and knew this meant they were closing up for the night. I could be sound asleep and still wake up on the first notes of Last Date. (note: evillll YouTube yanked the song in that link, so try this one.)

9) When my mother and stepfather broke up, my mother left me here (age 9) with relatives and promptly disappeared for months. Thus, I didn't like the house.

I do remember that this was where I discovered the Monkees. :)

10) We lived on the right side of this duplex; the tan house on the far left was the home of Mickey Mantle's cousin, also surnamed Mantle, who used to drink (in earnest) with my grandfather. I don't remember his first name since of course, in those days, we called adults "Mr"--thus I recall his name was "Mr Mantle"...

11) Left side of duplex this time! I think the couch on the curb really makes the photo.

12) Isn't that chain-link fence awful?! My grandmother would have totally flipped out. Needless to say, it wasn't there when we lived there.

13) This was a drug store when I lived above it. One of the businesses on the ground floor was the first place I ever smoked weed--an R & B/funk record store called Jim's House of Soul.

It sure was!

14) This old building was the paper mill my stepfather worked in, located in Massillon Ohio. The sidewalk in front is where he walked the picket line during the strike.

There was a huge, musty old room of discarded books, magazines and comics, ready to be recycled into pulp... my stepfather brought me paper bags full of great stuff to read almost every day. THIS is where I learned to LOVE to read, and began reading for pleasure and enjoyment. They were old and sometimes (maddeningly!) had pages missing, but I loved them all. This was where I first learned to love comics, especially. Also, ancient movie magazines... where I first saw my beloved ELIZABETH!

The recycle-room of the paper mill was a magical place to me.

15) Lindbergh Elementary School, where we had to learn to spell CHARLES LINDBERGH correctly on spelling tests. I'll bet you never had to do that.

The iconic "Charlie Brown Christmas" piano music always makes me think of this school; candy canes and cutting out paper snowflakes.

16) Deshler Elementary School, where we were dismissed early after the assasination of JFK.

17) Hilltonia Middle School, which was called JUNIOR HIGH when I attended. I still think JUNIOR HIGH sounds better; who decided to name them all MIDDLE? Yech.

It was NOT a two-toned building when I attended... yech to that too.

18) West High School, my um, alma mater. ((((screams))))

Looks exactly the same.

~*~

Hope you enjoyed your tour!

Last date

For those of you who have always wondered what this haunting, bittersweet piece of piano-music is called, that's the title.

Etched in my memory, I have visions: A young man with a DA haircut accompanies a young woman with a poodle skirt... neon signs reflecting in dark puddles, late at night, as the couple leave the bar to cuddle in the warm car, motor idling. Maybe they turn on the car radio, and hear this song.

They were my parents.

Not sure how I got the memory, unless it was just so strongly conveyed by their presence. No matter how nasty they brawled, even after they divorced, they would be brought together by the song. (Yes, they continued to see each other long after they were divorced and married to other people, plural. I'll get around to writing about THAT convoluted and complicated state of affairs, one of these days.)

When my mother heard the song, even decades later, she would always politely excuse herself to go to the restroom. (And shed tears for my father, no doubt.)

This song, recorded in 1960, was used in country-and-western-bars (and maybe still is, in some areas) as a "last call"--a signal the bar was closing; time to drink up and leave. Folks would often dance this song with their ex-lovers, or someone they believed they would NEVER have as a lover. They would dance with their best friends' wives, in full view of the best friend. Women would also dance with each other (men never did). The song was transcendent; it said "We have shared this space and time together, and now, this night is over." Something about the wistful melody made the saloon-denizens suddenly thoughtful, quiet, melancholy, sentimental, aware of their mortality. People might break out in fights during rowdier songs... but never this one. Last date signaled a graceful 'good night'--an always-tender parting of the ways.

I just love it.

It's best listened to VERY LATE on a Saturday night... maybe 2:30 am, when the bars in my hometown closed.

~*~

Floyd Cramer - Last Date