• 4:41am

Open House: Children's Book, Tapes, Games

I just posted an ad on craiglist for an open house today. I am taking appointments and having people come over and pick through this stuff. We will see how this goes. I would think since it is a weekend, some parents will be off from work. Some might want to catch up on sleep and do that. The ones that are go geter's will have gotten a little sleep as they need and they will be up looking for opportunity. We will see who they are. I can remember one Christmas when I still believed in Santa Claus and I think there were only 2 of us walking and maybe a 3rd in a crib, so that would be my next youngest sibling Holly born 14 months after me and my next younger sibling Cindy born sometime close to that. I don't remember the birthdays off hand, I just know I was the oldest and there was 7 of us born in 9 years in a 2 bedroom apartment in a row house on Front Street in Cohoes, NY.

So I remember the living room, or as we called it, "The front room," was full from wall to wall with toys. Maybe there was another cribber in there somewhere, my bother Tony born in March of 1965 I believe. I remember someone got a fire helmet. It might have been me. I remember it had a speaker in the helmet, it gave out calls but I don't remember them. I could be all wrong on the kids that were walking, I just remember getting up real early and being excited about all the stuff. My parents must have just got done putting it all out and after working full time plus overtime in a factory all week, the shopping of the holidays and all the rest of the stuff they had to do besides work, they just wanted to get an hour of sleep. I kept going in and saying,"Look at this!" I must have done that for a while. I don't remember them getting upset with me, I just couldn't understand why they were not as excited as me about all this stuff... My sister Holly now lives in that same apartment and it is a good size for one person or a couple with one maybe 2 kids at the most. I don't remember feeling like there was not enough room and the place was never dirty. As I got older, cleaning it came to be something that became very difficult for me. It was not the work, it was the way the work was told to be done. It was my father, he was not a very gentle or caring person that I know of. I can't name one time in my life he did one thing that ever showed me he cared. Waite, there is something that just came to mind.

Here comes a story section:

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