One Of My Fondest Childhood Memories
Getting My Own Bedroom
From when I was about 4 or 5 until age 13, we lived in a tiny home with a big lot at the corner of Huston St. and Willis Ave. in Sherman Oaks, CA.
It had a kitchen, a living room, a bathroom, and one bedroom.
My sister and I slept in bunk beds in the bedroom that had a closet and chests of drawers that were shared by family members.
Our parents slept on a sofa bed in the living room that they opened when they went to bed.
The kitchen was small without a pilot light, so you used a match to light the burners or oven.
I remember my grandmother waiting too long to light the match and getting a big whoof of fire from the oven that singed her hair.
It was cramped, but all I knew was that my best friend, Gary Hays, a year older, had his own room because they had a two-bedroom house.
You can imagine my delight when my parents decided to divide their big lot into two parcels and build a three-bedroom house on the new lot.
It had three bedrooms, one bathroom, and a small kitchen with hookups for a washer and dryer.
I remember the day when I got home from school and discovered the building inspector had done the final inspection. That meant we could move into our new house at 14802 Huston St., Sherman Oaks, CA.
I started moving stuff immediately.
I was getting my own room at last. It was on the corner and had windows on two of the walls and a closet with two sliding doors.
That was my domain until I moved out and provided many great memories.
