I was born in 1946. My father and step-father both volunteered for the war, as many, many others did. Of course, I have no personal memory of the war, other than what I heard much later.
Fast speed forward, my mother married my step-father when I was about five years old. He had a yellow MG convertible. I was so small that I sat in the back which was not really a seat, but more or less a luggage compartment.
Follow me below.
My parents always owned (were paying for) a house. We never lived in an apartment. Both of my parents worked, my step-dad (hereinafter referred to as my father, or my dad) was a policeman and my mom worked for a bank. My grandmother bought and read to me all of the Oz books. We went on family vacations every year--most of them camping trips to one place or another.
After my dad left the police dept. he went to work for the State Dept and went to Vietnam. He was there six months and died about four months after he returned from "unknown causes" at the ripe old age of 46.
I know that my parents did not have a lot of money, I do remember a few lean days about once a month when my mom would make some sort of casserole for dinner. But I never felt poor. All of my needs were always met. We went to the public library every two weeks and each of us checked out the maximum number of books that we could check out.
My family's monthly income was probably about what my income is now, or less. I am not married (divorced twice) and I now live in a fairly small town in Northern California. I gross about $3,200 per month, and I cannot afford to buy a house here. I am planning to move to Arizona (next year) with a family here in Northern California who is also looking to relocate. None of us can afford California anymore, a state where I was born and raised.
I don't think that I will really miss California in spite of the fact that I have lived here my entire life. I am actually looking forward to Arizona where I will give McCain hell!
Here's to new beginnings!