Chapter 4, The Repo Man

It was also while living in the duplex that I have my earliest recollection of the “repo-man.” Vacuum cleaners, television sets, sewing machines and a Mangle Ironer were just a few of the items that my parents purchased and on which they failed to keep up the payments. A knock on the front door was a cause for alarm and always elicited a peek out the front window before answering. All told, our stay at the duplex was a very life shaping time for me. I became very introspective during this phase of my life. Why was I being whipped for something I couldn’t control? Why were these people trying to convince me of those improbable biblical stories? And why did my parents purchase things they couldn’t afford to keep? It was at this stage that I began to question things.

From the duplex, we moved to 1124 Carmelita Way in Del Paso Heights, in what was called “North Sacramento.”  Don't ask me how I remembered that address number, it just came to me all of a sudden.

 

This is us kids at the time we moved to North Sacramento.  I'm on the left

North Sacramento was known for its dense “black” population and unsavory white folk. Compared to the “projects” or the “duplex,” It was much more rural, but the home had just been recently built and it was much larger than the space we left behind. I was probably ten or eleven years old at this time, and I attended a school at the corner of South Avenue and Kern Street, and had exactly 1 mile to walk each way. Our “black” neighbors were nice people and, at the time, I had no sense of skin color or race. My first girlfriend was a young black girl whose father had a gold star in his front tooth and who invited me to dinner on many occasions. Another neighbor introduced me to “jive,” a concept I had trouble understanding.

I met a boy at school, Richard, and we formed a fast friendship. He was bigger than I was, and I saw him get in a fight one day and it scared the hell out of me. I made up my mind I would never get into a physical fight with anyone. During one unusually wet winter, Richard and I built a raft which we launched in a creek near Hagginwood Golf Course. We sailed that raft all the way to where the creek dumped into the American River, and on to where the American dumps into the Sacramento River before we panicked, rowed to shore, and spent the rest of that day walking the six miles back home. Most parents today would shudder to think their young children were risking their lives rafting down rain swollen creeks, climbing giant Oak trees, or wandering into remote places miles from home, but it all seemed normal at the time. Later that summer, when the creeks began drying up, it was not unusual to find 18 inch to 24-inch catfish that had been marooned in small pools as the water receded. It was sad, as they were doomed to certain death. I found a wallet in the creek bed that summer that had a twenty-dollar bill inside! I gave it to my mother.

It was comforting having a friend like Richard. He was a tough kid and nobody messed with him. We spent many Saturday afternoons at the school’s playground at the Marble Carnival. We called it the marble carnival because hundreds of kids would show up and anyone could set up a gambling concession consisting of a myriad of marble contests. “Hit one get em’ all” was the barker’s cry, “Hit one get em’ all.” I earned thousands of marbles at these events. These were the years of PEZ dispensers, A&W root beer in 1-gallon glass bottles, and my first taste of Chinese Food.

It was, at this time that I had my first experience with a “summer camp.” The local church had a camp in the Sierra/Nevada mountains and my brother Kenneth and I were allowed to go. What a treat! On my second day at camp I made a slingshot that I soon sold to one of the other kids. Before the end of that week, I had made and sold half a dozen slingshots and came home with more money that I left with but my parents took it away from me. I had my first “paper route” in Del Paso Heights. Rain, sleet, snow, or yapping gnarling dogs, I delivered the “Sacramento Bee” to about 120 customers for a net income of about $10 a month. In that neighborhood, many of my customers moved away owing me money.

You will probably find this one difficult to believe, but its the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  One summer at the home on Carmelita Ave., our father told us that if we dug a swimming pool, he would have it completed.  Like a couple of idiots, we soon had the whole neighborhood working on the pool, all chattering about the fun we would have when it was completed.  On weekends, after school during the week, any spare time we had was devoted to digging that pool, all by hand with shovels!!  It wasn't long before we had a good sized hole in the back yard.  I would guess that we were well over half way to completion and had move over 50 cubic yards of material when our dad suddenly brought in a piece of equipment and had it filled in!  We were devastated and humiliated.  It was the only time in our entire lives that I was happy to be moving again.  I don't think he ever expected that we would take him up on his offer, and never had any intentions of completing that pool.

Next: First Fight, First Kiss