On Easy Street, in the late 40s through most of the 50s, the Douthits were our neighbors. The kids went through school with us. I think Doris was the oldest, then Lois, my age and grade. I think Christine was next, then Wayne, and then Lee. All old folks now. Clarence was the father and he called his wife Miss Molly. I think her real name was Laura. When we moved to Easy in late 48, Clarence owned and ran the garage at the highway end of the street. It was always black in his long garage, and Clarence was always seen in blackened denim coveralls and a brimless black cap. He always seemed happy, ready to laugh at a joke. Miss Molly always tried to be friendly as well, and smiling was automatic. Clarence owned our end of the street, the fig orchard end, and was our landlord. Our house was leaky when it rained, but Clarence came over with a relative or two and put that gritty tar paper all over the roof, and it pretty much worked. We had lived there about a month or maybe two when my father died. He was driving home on 140 when he felt the heart attack coming on. Mike was with him. He was four. My father drove into Clarence’s yard and sent Mike to get Clarence. When Clarence came running back to the car, Daddy was just staring. Clarence gently closed his eyes. For a while, the Douthits lived in a rickety house next to the garage. In a few years, when the folks moved out of the big brick house across from us, they moved in. Sometime in the mid-50s they got an odd looking car, a Willys as I recall. Lois, Christine, and Wayne set about washing it up and giving it a wax job. They used floor wax. It wouldn’t rub off. The car had little hand made circles in it from then on.
Posted on: Fri, 12 Sep 2014 14:14:46 +0000
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