My sis sent me this photo of my husband and I way back when we were young and slim. Hubby was still in the Navy and we only had three children at the time, ended up with five.
We're standing in my parents' front yard, the home I grew up in--Los Angeles CA. The house is no longer there, replaced by the Glendale Freeway.
Our eldest daughter, Dana, is now the mother of two and grandmother of five. The next little girl, Lisa, is the mother of two and grandmother of four. The baby in my arms, Mark, died from cancer in his early forties. He had one son, and three step-children, and two grandkids.
We had two other children, Lori, who has four children and no grandkids, and the baby, Matthew, who has three children, one step-daughter, and three grandkids.
It's hard to remember being that young. I do remember working hard. Until we had our fifth child, I hung all the laundry outside. My grandfather felt sorry for me and bought me a dryer. We seldom went out to eat which meant I cooked dinner every night. Besides our family, we often had guests.
When hubby was overseas, I bought all the groceries for the whole month during one grocery visit--sometimes I had five carts full of food. It was the only way to make sure we ate that month.
Between pregnancies, I worked as a telephone operator.
When our youngest was five, I began college and also worked as a teacher in a pre-school for developmentally disabled children. For ten years, I also had a Camp Fire Group. I took those girls everywhere, camping, back packing, to L.A. to live TV shows, to San Diego, and for our grand finale, a bus trip to the Grand Canyon.
All during the time I also wrote--PTA newsletters, plays for my Camp Fire Girls to perform, and finally, two historical family sagas based on my family genealogy.
Nothing was published until after we moved to another place--and that's a whole other set of memories.