The Shovel

I was swapping texts with son Tyler about Christmas this afternoon. We starting joking around about gifts like the old "lump of coal" thing. I recalled when I as 8 or so my Grandma gave me a robe for a gift and I thought of that as my "lump."  My Grandpa had retired from Pontiac Motor Company. From what I saw I thought they were rich and I was hungry for one thing and one thing only... toys. The bigger the better.  That sure didn't work out.

On further thought, I recalled about the same time when my brother David Claud William, our folks and I lived at 35 1/2 Taylor Street in Pontiac, Michigan for a while in the mid to late 50's.  My Uncle Everett, Dad's brother and his family lived in front of the house and we were in the back. Our address was "35 1/2 Taylor Street."  My Aunt Alma, Dad's sister and her family lived in the home offset behind us. Dad's other brother Earl and his family lived a couple of miles away. All the Dad's were factory workers at Pontiac Motors or General Motors. All the Moms were stay at home Moms.

(Dirt pile is where our home was.  Boarded home
in back is where Aunt Alma and her family lived)

Here is a recent picture of the set up there courtesy of Google Maps. Among the 5 kids in our three families on Taylor, three of us were boys around the same age, Alma's son Dennis, Everett's son Phillip and me.  We had recently arrived from living in Willow City, North Dakota, dirt poor with every earthly possession and the four of us piled in and on top of a '49 Pontiac.

It was blue collar all the way except for Alma's husband Joe who was a white collar something with General Motors. Dennis happened to be their only surviving child after a few earlier miscarriages.  He was spoiled, Phil was doing okay and I was down the ladder somewhere, harboring all the bad feelings of the outsider.  I mean I was jealous, hyper critical and probably some other stuff I don't recall at the moment... all the pettiness a little kid is capable of.

One day, the three of us were playing in the basement of the front house.  We had a coal furnace down there that served both families. Dennis said something whiny (at least in my recollection) and I picked up the broad based coal shovel and smacked him with the flat side it.  Of course, there was much commotion but that thoughtless act established me as an equal member of the pack and from then on, Dennis paid attention when I said something.  He also let me play with all those great toys he had. Thanks Dennis.