Page 38 - Winterling's Chasing the Wind

Richard and I were surprised to see Mr. Stich come toward us. When he got to us he led
us towards the bicycle rack and told us, “Your father has died!” I was stunned and
silent, but Richard cried. He explained to us that my father had placed a hose from our
washing machine into the car’s exhaust during the night, placed it in the car trunk, and
climbed into it with the motor running. I remembered that we had slept late that
morning and were late to the bus stop. Mother hurriedly got us in the car and caught up
with the bus. As we boarded the bus, someone said there was a hose dragging behind
that car! Our father was such a quiet, reserved, and conscientious man that had several
close friends, but mother was very demanding, and frequently criticized him for not
being as energetic as she; consequently, there was seldom any peace in our household.
Richard and I thought our home was very disruptive when my father was in New Jersey
and she and Mr. Stich could drink and party ‘til all hours of the night, but after my
father died and she married her lover, both Richard and I couldn’t wait to grow up and
leave home.

CHAPTER 09 - Moving into the City
After finishing Junior High School, I faced new adjustments. Our house in Venetia was
sold, and we moved briefly into an apartment on Riverside Avenue before moving
downtown. We lived upstairs in Dr. Gorman’s two-story house at 615 Laura Street. We
painted the walls, used a dishpan on a table for a sink, and bought a block of ice every 2
days for the Ice Box. The first winter we got a tin metal heater that had a stovepipe
running to the fireplace which led to the chimney. On the coldest nights, Mr. Stich
balled up sheets of newspaper for fuel and stuffed them into the stove. The paper
ignited so rapidly that the entire stove turned red hot! For taking a bath, we had to light
a gas burner for hot water. Across the street was Estes-Krause Funeral Home, which in
those days also furnished ambulance service for the city. Occasionally the siren would
sound as they answered an emergency call, pulling out of the driveway, and turning left
onto Beaver Street. The wailing sound would fade away among the canyons of
buildings in the city.

Living downtown was very convenient. We could walk to the movies on Saturday, and
walk to First Baptist Church around the corner or Snyder Memorial Methodist Church
a few blocks down Laura Street. This was three years before television came to
Jacksonville, and radio provided much of our entertainment. One block away across
the street was the Jacksonville Journal building, which housed the giant newspaper
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