winter in a garage: memoirs from an extinct childhood

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I remember the winter we lived in my aunt and uncle’s garage while my dad (Pop) went to college. I was 6 or 7, I think. It was that same winter that I learned to ride a bike.

I remember going to Grandma’s for Christmas and visiting our cold, empty house. How strange it was to see our house unlived in, cold and lonely. Then it was back to the garage for the rest of the winter.

I remember bathing in a tub in that garage and how damn cold the air was getting out of the warm water.

It was a cozy campout we had in the garage. With a travel trailer providing beds for all of us, sinks and kitchen space set up around the outside of the trailer, we certainly made do for the winter.

I learned to ride a bike on the quiet street out in front. It was a dead end street, so pretty much the only traffic was the neighbors at the end. It was a cold, dreary winter. I remember riding my bike out on the road and seeing the tracks from the grader that had plowed the snow.

I remember seeing the neighbor girl walk by on tin can stilts and thinking that was pretty cool.

Then there were the quiet, cozy Sabbath afternoons (Saturday) spent at my aunt and uncle’s house. Mom and uncle Merle would be working on a giant jigsaw puzzle, while us kids, aunty Noreen and Pop would be building something amazing with legos.

My first experience on a city bus was that winter, as well. We caught the bus and took the route up by the college to see where Pop was going to school. The excursion included a stop at McDonald’s for ice cream and a chance to play on the playground.

I was none too sad when spring came, my dad was finished his course, and we packed up and moved back home. It was a winter rich in memories, though, that I cherish to this day.

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