Friday, January 22, 2010

Our theme song

Somebody asked me for my home address the other day, and I had to stop and think about it.  For a brief moment, Sepulveda Place, Rudasil Road, Whitmore Street, Russell Way, and half a dozen others from New England to southern California were all just kind of blurring together.  We've moved around a lot, first because of the S.O.'s work, and then mine.  I used to joke about selecting furniture based on how easy it would be to get into a U-Haul.  I never worried about spring cleaning -- we just moved instead, and it was almost never short moves.

The most frightening move we ever did, in retrospect, was from upper Michigan to the Seattle area in 1979.  We loaded up a 1971 Dodge Polara station wagon that the S.O. bought from his cousin for $150, parked the kids with my parents and said we'd let them know when we got settled, and headed west.  Did not know a soul in the Seattle area, had never been there, and did not have a huge cash reserve.  All we knew is that Boeing was there and the S.O. was an Air Force-trained airframe mechanic -- we figured that somewhere out there someone would be willing to hire him. 

One of the screwiest things about the move was it wasn't necessary for economic reasons.  By U.P. standards, we were doing good financially.  Obviously not rolling in the green stuff if our idea of a decent vehicle was an 8-year-old Dodge Polara, but not hurting either.  The S.O. had a secure job, I had cows, there was no obvious reason to pack up and leave -- but we did. 

We survived the move, and found along the way that it was one of the more psychologically liberating things we've done.  Back in the U.P. the labor market was unbelievably inelastic -- even truly horrible jobs would attract dozens of applicants when there was an opening.  When we got to Seattle, I discovered I could actually pick and choose:  every place I applied offered me employment.  There is something amazingly freeing about being able to look a prospective employer in the eye and say, "No thanks, I may be looking for work but I'm not desperate."  

We liked Seattle, or, more accurately, unincorporated Snohomish County a few miles north of the city.  We wound up living in a duplex (fondly remembered as Mildew Manor) that put the kids into the Mukilteo school district and gave us an Everett telephone number and a Lynwood address.  But, much as we liked the Pacific Northwest, we weren't fated to be there long.  About the same time the S.O. got his FAA airframe certification through Everett Community College, Lockheed California came up recruiting -- and in June 1980 we headed south to the heart of the San Fernando valley.


  1. That's a great song but I don't recall Hank doing it. And I have been many places, 49 states and a bunch of Canada, lots of those states many times.

    The year I moved here it took me all summer to move a forty year collection of tools and equipment and such. But I did it all myself between part time jobs and such.

    I've never stayed with a job just hoping for some extra retirement from it, I've always done what I wanted to do but I've never much cared about money as long as I had enough to get by.

    And I've always had enough, even the times I was as much as living under trees while building something to live in. Things like that just don't bother me, in fact I rather like them.

    I didn't do much of a post today, mostly just some camping pictures.

  2. Somebody asked me for my home address the other day, and I had to stop and think about it.

    They mean of course where you live right now. Lots of bloggers (and just the public in general, especially women) seem to be paranoid about saying where they live.

    Shoot, anyone can find my address and phone number on the internut so easy, I've even posted them in posts at times.

    Truth of the matter is, even though a few have came to visit me, the world at large is just too damn busy to beat a path to my door.

    I've even pissed off a lot of these monkeys and invited them over here to kill me (try to anyway) if they wanted to but they don't have time for that, they have to get to work or go shopping and such things as that.

    I guess that the few enemies I have here are too afraid of me to mess with me, ha ha ha ha

  3. It's on his 1963 album "I've Been Everywhere." Other cuts on the album include "When It's Springtime in Alaska" and "Melba from Melbourne."

  4. It's on his 1963 album...

    That's the year president Kennedy was shot. I didn't listen to a lot of music back then, still don't.

    But I recall that year and the next year pretty well.

    In 63 I was in the Navy and stationed in Florida when we got the word he had been shot.

    In 64 I was stationed in Kodiak Alaska when the big quake hit us.


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