A is for Address

A is for Address

            I know I’m strange, but I have lived in only six cities (some were towns or villages) that I remember in my almost 79 years: Mobile, AL; New Orleans, LA; Pensacola, FL; Clinton, MS; Pascagoula, MS; and Cerrillos, NM. And I remember the address in each place.

We moved from Baton Rouge, LA, which I don’t remember, to Mobile, AL, when I was three years old. The apartment neighborhood where we lived is still there, now a neighborhood where almost all of the tenants are black people. It was practically new when we moved in at 401 Crenshaw Street, Apartment A.

Even though I was very young, I remember several things about this apartment. The thing I remember best was what I said to a new neighbor and what happened later. I was on my tricycle on the porch when the new neighbor spoke to me. I told her (the mother, I presume) that my mother had told me not to talk to them until she got to know them. The little boy in the family, Leroy Willingham, later became my best friend.

What I remember about Leroy is that I’d let him break my toys if he’d stay a bit longer to play. When my mother found out that I was doing that, she was furious. I don’t remember exactly what she did to stop that silly activity, but she probably let Leroy have it! He was my first boyfriend.

I also remember a closet shaped like a cornucopia, where I kept my toys. Maybe it was built for a shelter of some sort, but for the Cheatham family, it was for toy storage. I also remember eating almost a whole stick of butter that my mother had put on the table because we were having company for dinner. This was somewhat of a disaster because during WWII, butter was rationed, and Mother had bought all that she could for a while.

When I was a child, I was what we in the South call sickly. I have specific memories of two of my sick spells. When I was four years old, I had scarlet fever. Today, scarlet fever is cured with antibiotics, and children stay out of school only a few days while they get over being contagious. Back in 1944, children were quarantined for a couple of weeks. That’s what happened to me. What a long time for a child to be in bed! I don’t know where I was exposed to the disease but maybe at church since my mother and I went every Sunday. The disease is spread through coughing and sneezing, and I’m sure that there was much of both in the Primary Department at West End Baptist Church.

My dad caused the second sick spell that I remember, or so he thought. One day, after we had had a hard rain in Mobile, I went outside to play. The lovely mud puddle in the street in front of our house was too much for a four-year-old to resist even though her mother had specifically told her not to wade in the water. When Mother looked out and saw what I was doing, she ran out, jerked me out of the puddle, and said, “Just wait till your daddy gets home! He’s going to spank you!”

I have no idea why she threatened me with Daddy, the kindest, least violent man in the whole world. He had never spanked me before, and I hoped he wouldn’t begin something new now; however, when Mother told him what she had promised, he had to spank me . . . probably not very hard, but since my daddy was doing the spanking, it broke my heart.

That night, I became sick in the night, and Daddy swore that spanking me made me sick and vowed never to raise a hand against me again. He kept his word, and I was relieved. Mother never made such a promise, and the narrow black belt or a strong switch was always handy for her!

I really intended to write about each of the places that I’ve lived, but I’ve spent far too  much time on Mobile. Since I said that I remember all of the addresses, I’ll give them here just so that I won’t be telling a big fat fib.

New Orleans – 8326 Palmetto St.

Pensacola – 2305 W. Cervantes St., 610 “Q” Street, 24 Janet St. (with my parents)

Clinton – Main St. and a PO Box when I was in college

Pascagoula – 2306 Saratoga Dr.

Pensacola --  613 Detroit Blvd. (after Frank and I married)

Cerrillos – 279 Gold Mine Rd./PO Box 555

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I took this photo in 2008. This is the right apartment house, but it’s been remodeled a bit. I didn’t see the screened in porch, and we certainly didn’t have these trees. I wanted to go to the door to ask to see our apartment, but I wasn’t that brave.