Shotgun House

I was going through the photos in the Picassa slideshow and had forgotten I had put this photo into the mix.

It's not a particularly good photo and wouldn't mean anything to anyone else but my family and I because it was where my grandparents lived when I was a boy.

It's called a "shotgun house" because it's long and narrow and if you stuck a shotgun in the front door and pulled the trigger, you would hit every room in the house.

I have some fond memories of the house and staying there with my grandparents. There was a "play house" at the back of the garage and my sisters, cousins and I liked to decorate the inside with pages cut out from a magazine and stuck to the walls with flour glue.

I recall some guys in an old pickup driving down the alley and stopping, trying to coax my big sis over to their vehicle. She was wary and someone ran into the house to tell my dad and he ran out there but the guys had already left. I don't know what their intentions were, but I darn sure know what my dad's were. They were lucky he didn't catch them.

I also remember playing baseball with my cousin and some neighborhood boys. My cousin hit the ball and it broke a window; the next thing I know, I was standing there alone with the bat my cuz had quickly thrust into my hand before he ran away with the other kids. Grandpa believed me when I told him I hadn't done it, and gave me some grudging admiration for not snitching on who had done the dirty deed. I believe he knew who had done it even before he came out of the house.

I remember climbing on top of the garage and jumping off, just like a paratrooper, yelling "Geronimo!". Grandma saw me and told me to not jump off, and from now on to stay off the roof. Being the good boy I always was -grin- , I tried climbing down but slipped and fell on my back and hit my head on the sidewalk. Reaching back to feel the growing knot on my head, my hand came away with blood on it. I freaked out a little bit, but with only a sniffle or two, I went inside to let Grandma survey the damage to my head. It was just a little cut, but when Grandpa looked at the minor damage to my scalp and said "My gosh, I can see all the way down to your toes!", I lost it.

Before my grandparents passed away I was visiting them and we remembered that and Grandma STILL chastised Grandpa for scaring me like that. Grandma always called me her "little Mikey man". She's just about the only person I ever allowed to call me that.

The things I remember the most about that house were Grandma's chicken and dumplings and how the entire family would gather there for Christmas. I don't see how we all fit into the small shack. I also remember Grandma getting a kick out of me coming into the house and asking her sister if I could go down the street to play; they were twins and always were amused when people were confused as to who was who.

Here's me 'n Grandpa, sitting in front of the window that was broken.



I miss 'em.