So, I was raised in Orange, California, in an orange grove, under the Eucalyptus trees, next to the chicken ranch. An older brother and sister who were mean, a not so older brother and a little sister, who I was mean to. My first memories were from San Pedro, where everyone knows that I was born, in 1950. By 1952, the new house, that Dad, Mom, and my older brother and sister had been building up in the hills of Orange County, California, was ready enough for us to move into the garage. The garage sported a kitchen, bathroom, attic, chesterfield, the old Aldrich baby grand, the Thor, (unbelievable washer, drier, and dishwasher combination and still sold to this day!) and its solenoids. My first memories of the new house, (aptly dubbed “The Someday House”, because Mom imagined that Someday she would get it finished) and blessed to Our Lady of Perpetual Help, (who, it was said, arranged the loan that financed the project through a Novena and Monsignor Scott) are the smells of dad making pancakes on a kerosine stove, when he wasn’t trying to play old Gershwin and Gilbert and Sullivan tunes with some Boogie Woogie thrown in, for good measure. We grew up, with Orange County, but by the 90’s it was no longer bearable due to the ever increasing population, which is how we ended up in Phoenix.

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