Sometime in the early 1960s, my grandmother Blanche Murphy and my Aunt Ruth Malone lived in this trailer at the Gardena Trailer Lodge on Western Avenue. I spent a lot of Sunday nights reluctantly watching Lawrence Welk when Blanche would babysit me while my parents and aunt went out. (On Sunday nights, I preferred watching "The Twentieth Century" with my father.)
Before my grandmother died in 1971, we spent quite a few holidays here along with my Uncle Earl, Aunt Esther, and cousin Craig. Ruth's daughter, my cousin Maureen, would stop by. (I once wrote a line for a character based on her: "She was a beatnik in the fifties, a hippie in the sixties, a film editor in the seventies, and in the eighties, she sold real estate.")
My worst memory of the trailer was when my Aunt Esther's little dog was hit and killed in the driveway. Aunt Ruth had a dog too, a poodle named Pierre. I used to take him for walks, but after I hit puberty he started barking at me. He was a good dog and a swell companion for my aunt and grandmother. My Aunt told me when he got old and sick he just wandered off one day somewhere to die.
After my Aunt Ruth died in 1985, we sold the trailer and split up the family antiques. I got a black, three-pronged fork that I remember Blanche using to eat her pork chops. Today, it's below my hands right now, resting in my desk drawer.
I took these pictures of the trailer in 1986, a year after we sold it. The new owners painted over the 1950s two-toned red and white design, making it all white. The last time I drove through the trailer park, this trailer was gone and a new double wide was in its place.
No comments:
Post a Comment