Wednesday, July 22, 2020

Visiting Goldilocks

When I was twenty-one months old, my grandmother and my mother loaded up the Chevy and drove us from central Illinois to Phoenix, Arizona (most of the trip on Route 66) to visit my great-grandmother.

My great-grandparents divorced once their children had all flown the nest, and my great-grandmother, whom I shall call Mom Brown from now on, sought out warmer climes. Her roundabout trip to her promised land is what makes me call her Goldilocks.


My great-grandmother as a young girl.


When Mom Brown first moved to Arizona, she settled down in the mountains of Flagstaff in the northern part of the state. Flagstaff was way too cold, so she moved to Douglas, which is right on the border with Mexico. Douglas was way too hot, so she moved to Phoenix, and Phoenix was just right.

See why I call her Goldilocks?

She lived in a trailer park on Van Buren Street, which at that time, was not only a "main drag" but a very nice street. This trailer park in Phoenix was our destination, but we did do some sightseeing along the way.

Our cross-country transportation.

My grandmother and me taking in the Grand Canyon.

Mom Brown's trailer.

Mom Brown's trailer was small, but it had a nice shady patio. While we were there, it rained, and the trailer roof leaked like the proverbial sieve. My grandmother had a fit and wanted to know how on earth her mother could live in such an awful place. Mom Brown looked at her and said, "Irene, it hasn't rained in two years. I didn't know the roof leaked!"


Mom Brown in front of her trailer. If you look closely at her hands, you can see signs of the arthritis that was beginning to cripple her.

Mom Brown and me. Not quite Catalina.


While we were there, Mom Brown decided that she wanted to take us to Catalina Island off the southern California coast. She knew the best way to get there. Unfortunately, her sense of direction was just as good as her ex-husband's (read terrible), and we never made it. I did get to wet my feet in the Pacific and build a sandcastle, though.

Left to right: my grandmother, great-grandmother, mother & me.



Naturally, I don't remember that first trip to Phoenix. When I think of my great-grandmother, I think of her as slightly older than she looks in this last photo.

Her arthritis crippled her hands and other parts of her body so badly that she had to leave Phoenix to come to live with my grandparents. Mom Brown could be a very difficult woman, and as her health worsened, she finally had to move to a nursing home. This was a good thing for my grandmother. I remember how exhausted and depressed she was while Mom Brown lived with them.

A lot of my memories of her involve sitting on my grandparents' front porch with Mom Brown. We would pass an hour or two on hot, lazy summer afternoons embroidering. She loved to embroider and taught me a lot about the craft although I never became as skilled as she and my mother were. I'd rather be out in the country on my bicycle or up in a tree with a book.

I also remember the day when I was dead-heading flowers under a window and overheard Mom Brown telling my mother to stop feeding me.  "Why on earth should I stop feeding Cathy?" Mom asked her. "Because she's fat!" Mom Brown replied. (I was far from being overweight.) After talking with her for another minute or two, Mom found out that Mom Brown really meant that I was too tall. She was a tall woman for her day at five feet six inches, and I was already looking her in the eye at the age of nine. She didn't think I should get any taller. Mom laughed and said, "Good luck with that!" (I still had four inches of growing to do.)

Mom Brown was a complicated woman and yet another person that makes my family history so interesting. I wonder what she'd think of my calling her Goldilocks?


16 comments:

  1. You have some lovely memories that you have shared here.

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    1. I don't have children to pass them along to, so I decided to share with all of you.

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  2. Mom Brown sounds like a fascinating woman, Cathy. And so adventurous, too! I don't know what she'd think of you calling her Goldilocks, but I really appreciate that you shared her story here. I'll bet her memoirs would be so interesting!

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    1. Personally, I think she'd stop feeding me if she knew I called her Goldilocks! LOL

      I always wondered why Mom and Dad Brown were called that instead of Grandma and Grandpa, and I found out the practice was quite common in the 1920s.

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  3. Wow. Such an interesting story. Hearing about people's relatives and ancestors is always a treat.
    I had Uncle George and a lot of interesting relatives who got into adventures.

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    1. I've enjoyed your telling me some of their adventures.

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  4. Thanks for sharing this story. I love seeing that car because it reminds me of our family driving from Casper, Wyoming to Louisiana for a visit--no air conditioning, windows down, moving from dry heat to hot and humid!

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    1. Ah, the days of cars with no air conditioning!

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  5. That is an interesting story, Cathy! Those pictures remind me of ones that my mother had with my grandmother and her sisters and other relatives. Sadly, I don't have those pictures. I'm probably the only one who could remember what relative was which. Gave them to my sister to sort when she was ill and taking chemo. Never got them back and her husband moved away with all their stuff - I lost track of him. Sigh. Ah well. Your great-grand sounds feisty - think you got some of that? LOL

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    1. That's sad because it's almost carved in stone that, if they haven't been already, those photos will be thrown away.

      You should read what author Sandra Parshall had to say about the true meaning of the word "feisty" on Facebook today. I'd rather say "strong-willed," and she's one of many ancestors I got it from. :-)

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  6. What great pictures and memories! Thanks for sharing them.

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  7. What a wonderful story - thank you for sharing! One of my maternal great-grandmothers was known as "Gram Imlay", so I found it interesting that your family also used the surname in referring to Mom Brown.

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    1. That's what they both wanted to be called: Mom and Dad Brown.

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  8. I had a Jewish grandmother on my mother's side and we referred to her in Yiddish often and she talked to me using the Jewish word for that. She was a character, very strong backbone.

    She worked at the Triangle Shirtwaist factory and the women workers came to her with their job problems as she was not intimidated by the bosses. Luckily, she was out sick on the day of the horrific fire on March 25, 1911. There are commemorations every year. It's not that far from my house.

    She lived until 98.

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