Approx 1952-53Address: 4308 Boyar Ave., Long Beach, CA
Telephone # GA-45445
This was the home that my family lived in when I was born. In May of 1955, when I was 9 months old, my mother Jenness died of a heart attack. They did not do an autopsy, but she had been to the doctor a few days prior with swollen ankles and other symptoms. So, I guess in retrospect, they just assumed it was a heart attack. Anyway, our family was on a Sunday afternoon drive when one minute she was alive, and the next she was dead. I can't tell you how blessed I feel to not have any memory of the entire event. I know that my siblings still deal with the emotional trauma of what they witnessed, first hand, that day.
At the time of her death Mother had 5 children between the ages 9 months to 16 years, and was the Relief Society President in her ward. Through the years I have met people that knew her. It made me feel good to have them say, "Oh, you're Jenness Conner's little baby girl? I knew and loved Jenness, she was fun, smart, compassionate, and always busy doing something for someone in the ward or her neighborhood. We missed her so much."
(
I don't know if I've ever actually written down that event before, and I don't know that I ever will again.)
At this point I went to live with my Aunt Evelyn, Uncle Albert, and Cousin Nan. Over night I had a new Mother, Father, and Sister. At least they were my new family for the next two and a half years. About the time that I was 3 yrs old, my father Oliver, married a woman named LaWanda. (Pictures of Wanda to be posted in a future blog.)
So, back I went to live with my #1 family. I remember Wanda fondly, I'm sure she liked me and was extra nice to me because I was so young. I do know that the rest of my siblings did not like her much. I feel bad for Wanda, could you imagine walking into the shattered lives of 5 children and try to take the place of their mother.
I say, Good Luck, to the brave women who try.....
When I was 7 yrs old my father and Wanda got divorced. So, yep, you guessed it, I went back to live with my family #2. Interestingly enough, I don't remember these moves as being traumatic or unusual. It was just part of what I did. Didn't everyone have two complete families? It was like going to the closet and deciding what pair of shoes to wear that day.
Everyone did it, right.....
This next picture is my father, Oliver (Chuck) (back left), my mother Jenness (back right), my brother Raymond (bottom left), Grandma Davies my father's mother (bottom center), and my brother William (Bill) (bottom right).
The photo was taken right outside the back door of the house (first photo) and they are standing right in from of a bougainvillea bush that to me was the most beautiful plant, in the most incredibly dark pink color I have ever seen. It's possible this very bush is the reason I love gardens and flowers so much. Being southern California, it bloomed almost year round and covered the entire back corner of our house. Even as a little child I can remember having the sight of it just take my breath away.
I can close my eyes and still walk through that house and picture the furniture, wallpaper, fireplace, bedrooms, the fabric curtains that hung over our closet instead of closet doors in my bedroom (
I shared with Rikki), the clothes dryer that we had to pop open with a dinner knife to get the warm clothes out. The bathroom floor was tile.
One evening a friend from the ward called and invited me to a sleep over. My Dad said that I could go but only after I took a bath. Off I ran, down the hall and into the bathroom where the floor was damp from someones earlier bath. Down I went, hitting my chin on the edge of the tub. Instead of a sleep over at a friends house, I went to the emergency room for stitches in my chin.
The kitchen was a world of wonder to me. When the dishes were washed, one of my brothers or sisters would line up the kitchen chairs so that I could take a clean dish, dry it with a cloth, then walk on the chairs to the proper cupboard and put it away. I felt so grown up and important. I also remember learning how to spell my name, memorize my address and telephone number, and have what I thought were wonderful chit-chats while drying the dishes and walking around the kitchen on those chairs. They put me in a magical place, I was as big as everyone else in the house, I learned wonderful things and became part of such grown up conversations when I stood up there.
Well, I've made this blog post long enough....... I've got so much more to share, the more I write, the more memories flood through my head. Sorry if I meander from memory to memory, or story to story. I hope it is more interesting than confusing or boring.
I love you all, more than all the stars in the sky...........
Thanksgiving is over and we are officially on a fast slide into the home stretch of Christmas. With all of the distressing economic news swirling through the airwaves like a winter blizzard, it's hard to focus on the reason for the season. 
This just made me laugh, so I thought I would share.
This photograph is of my Aunt Connie (on the left), my dad's sister. The woman on the right is my sister Winnifred. I think she was a nurse in one of the armed services. She lived in Los Angeles, close to an area called Chinatown. I can remember going to visit her, going out to dinner to a Chinese restaurant call "YeHung Goois" (not sure of the spelling). The room where we ate was upstairs, so we had to climb a flight of old wooden stairs. The first thing served was Egg Drop Soup, eaten with the traditional oriental spoon. The soup was so hot that I would sip it down the handle to let it cool. This was as delicious to me at that age as the Sizzling Rice soup from Yen Ching is today. 
