It's after 6 p.m., pdt - somewhat later than I usually post to the blog. I've been feeling a little rocky today, and spent a fair amount of time today napping. As a result, the topic I want to cover will now be done in two successive days, as I don't have the energy to do more.
Okay. The title is AT HOME, meaning where I live. Initially I was just going to show a bunch of photos, but decided to expand the story by going back to the beginning. (Small joke on the side: you knew of course, that the bible starts with a reference to baseball -- In the big inning ...).
Amalie and I were married March 21, 1970, and we lived in an apartment in the town of Belmont, which is about 40 miles south of San Francisco. One Saturday in late January, '71, I had a bit of business to conduct in Marin County, which is north of San Francisco, across the Golden Gate Bridge. Amalie said she wanted to go with me, so off we went. It just so happened that an elderly couple friends of mine lived in Santa Rosa, which is near where I had to go. So after I finished my work, I called my friends to ask if we might drop by for a visit. They said they would be delighted to have stop by.
Turns out they lived in a mobilehome park, and when we arrived, we were most impressed both by the park, and the coach itself. It was late afternoon, and our friends insisted we stay for dinner. By the time we had eaten and sat around chatting, they then insisted we stay overnight rather than drive back in the dark. We agreed, and the following morning they fixed us breakfast and sent us on our way.
Am and I both thought that since we didn't have a lot of savings, it would be a great idea to see if we could buy a mobilehome in our area. And so it was that one Saturday in February, 1971, we ambled down El Camino Real looking for mobilehome dealers. There were many, and the sales personnel were most happy to show us around, and flood us with literature.
There were basically four sizes of coaches (as they were then called) -- single wide, 10 or 12 foot, or double wide, 10 or 12 foot. We quickly came to the conclusion that the single wides were too small, and the 12 wide doubles were too expensive for our pocketbooks. Add to that the fact that we had bought a king size bed (I still have it), and that had a way of limiting our required floor plan. As a result, none of the coaches we saw suited us. So at the end of that day on that first Saturday, we drove back to our apartment with a whole mess of literature.
The following day we spread all these pamphlets out on the living room floor, and from that, we drew a double wide, 10 foot coach floor plan that we felt would fit our needs. The following Saturday we headed down the freeway toward San Jose (Do you know the way to San Jose?...) and swung off at Mountain View. And as we headed down this elevated stretch of highway, I saw a mobilehome park off to my left. So I exited at the next off ramp, and tried to find my way back to the mobilehome park I'd seen. We saw one just a half mile off El Camino, pulled in, and stopped at the clubhouse. The manager there told us that there were exactly two double wide, 10 foot spaces left, and they were being rented by a dealer farther down El Camino so that when they sold a coach, there would be a place to put it. So there we went.
Naturally, the sales person was delighted to see us, and when we showed him our floor plan, he said, "Follow me." And he took us to a coach there on the lot that was virtually identical to the plan we had drawn. Of course we wanted it.
The next step was to find financing, which turned out to be not too difficult. No 20 or 30 year loans, though. They would only loan for 10 years. But the loan payments plus the pad rent was within our means, and so it was that this coach became our home.
Blessed are those who can give without remembering and take without forgetting.
The irony of life is that, by the time you're old enough to know your way around, you're not going anywhere. (Tell me about it!).
God made man before woman so as to give him time to think of an answer for her first question.
I was always taught to respect my elders, but it keeps getting harder to find one.
Every morning is the dawn of a new error.
The best computer is a man, and it's the only one that can be mass produced by unskilled labor.