I was sort of homeless.

I wasn’t aware of it at the time. But I was sort of homeless in the late 1930s. I was 2 or 3 years old at the time. And we were living out of my dad’s car. No other home to go to. My mother, late in life, talked about those days. Which I appreciated. Because it gave me a taste of what life was really like during tough economic times. When the nation hadn’t yet come out of the Great Depression. Mom told me that each morning dad would take me into public restrooms at parks in Chicago and clean me up. I don’t remember any of that. And as far as I know, there was no personal trauma involved in spending my early years living out of a car. Must have seemed natural. But I suspect that mom and dad were experiencing trauma. Wondering where they’d end up. Anyway, my first conscious memories were of living in the basement of my uncle’s home in Chicago. And we shared the basement with my paternal grandparents. They lived on one side of the basement. And we lived on the other side. And when I was given a bath by my parents, they put me in a wash tub on my grandparents’ side of the basement. And when we had to use the toilet, we went upstairs to my uncle’s living quarters. We were still living in the basement when I started school. In Chicago. I still have a picture of the kindergarten class. And I looked quite happy. Perched in the front row. Sitting on the floor. It wasn’t until I was in the first grade that we moved out of the basement, and 120 miles away, to a small town in southeast Wisconsin, where I more or less grew up. We rented a home, and I still remember the address, 132 River Lawn Avenue. A two-story house. My brother and I shared a bedroom. My sister’s bedroom was across the hall. I lived there until I went away to college, in 1953. I wonder if the house is still standing. Maybe I’ll go back this summer, and see. I remember that my mom would send me up to the landlady’s house to pay the monthly rent. It was $40. And I still remember our phone number. It was 954-W. A party line that we shared with the neighbor across the street. Their number was 954-J. And when we made a call, we’d get the operator. And she had to make the connection for us. And oh, yes, the house was heated by a coal furnace. On cold winter nights, it was my responsibility to bank the coal in the furnace. Hopefully, in a way that made the fire last overnight. But sometimes it didn’t, and I had to get up and start the fire anew. I’d stand at the bedroom heat register to warm myself before traipsing off to school. And I’d come home for lunch. Because we had an hour and 20 minute lunch break. From 11:50 a.m. to 1:10 p.m. I never rode a school bus. The schools were within walking distance. Anyway, it was a happy childhood. Because I don’t ever remember being homeless. Guess I always had a home. Even if it was in a car. Or maybe even on a park bench. –Jim Broede