Reminiscing with pics

This post will come up on the 20th. During most of the 20th I will be traveling. . .HOME! I'm really looking forward to being there even though "home" will be different than before.

Meanwhile, I was looking through some pics that I had scanned and came across these. Here's a quick background:

In 1962, my mom escaped from an abusive husband with her 8yo daughter in tow and drove until she reached Ft. Myers, FL. She stopped there because she ran out of gas. She rented an apartment in this building. That's her walking up the sidewalk.

The landlord of the building was my father. Well, my future father. He was from New York and had come to Florida during the big building boom of the early 60s. He owned this apartment house but worked at a gas station. He was 44 years old and quite the bachelor. He was considered a "rich Yankee" even though he really wasn't. Rich, that is. He was definitely a "Yankee!"

He rented the apartment to my mom and not too long after they began to date. I was told that it was her southern fried chicken that sealed the deal.

This picture shows the back of the apartment building. On the left side of the picture down the driveway are "Surinam Cherry" trees/bushes. Does anyone know about them? They tasted FANTASTIC. I'm craving them now.

Across the street from the apartment house was a daycare. You can see it back there (striped swingset) behind the cool car. I spent some time in that daycare as my parents had a dress shop business in the front apartment. OH to have those dresses now!

One of my earliest memories is when I was in the back of that dress shop sitting on a potty chair. It was wooden and had a little tray that hooked on the front so the child would be able to take his time and be entertained with toys. It had a little plastic bowl that fit into the hole in the chair. My mom was not home (she was waitressing), and my dad was in charge of the dress shop. I guess he got busy with a customer and I got bored and, well, that tray made quite the comfy place to put my head.

When my dad finally returned, I was asleep. He woke me and got me up and there was a bright red ring around my bottom from that plastic bowl. They thought it was hilarious. I heard that story for years.

Ever since then, I have no interest in spending more time than necessary in the bathroom. I take care of business and get on out of there.

I blame that childhood episode.