And Then

The day after the fire Mom and Dad had to find us a place to live.     Grandpa Barner had an open flat above his Detroit home on Troester, so we moved in there.  It was a simple apartment.  It had a couple of small bedrooms, a  kitchen, living room and a bath.  We entered through a set of stairs that led from the side of the house.  We had a second set of stairs that came up from the front of the house off an open aired porch that featured a large swing.

When we watched TV, we watched with Grandpa Barner in the main living room.  We ate many of our evening meals with him but had breakfast on our own in the apartment.  Grandpa was still working, so he went his way and we went ours.  Dad went to Faygo and Mom drove Sharron and me to school.  (I’m not sure if Jackie was in school yet.)

The Royal Oak schools were expanding at the time. I had a shortened day at Clara Barton while they were building Helen Keller Junior High.  I started school after lunch so I stayed with mom or at Bills’ house until it was time for school.

The first time that I went back into the house after the fire was the following day.  Mom, Dad and I sorted through many things to determine what was still good and what needed to be discarded.  We had to inventory everything.   Things that could be cleaned, would be cleaned.   Things that couldn’t be cleaned, or repaired, were replaced.  This went on for several days.  I don’t know what my two sisters did.  Sharron was in fourth grade and Jackie may have been in Kindergarten.

Mom, Dad and I kept track of the time we worked on the inventory process.  There was an hourly wage attached to the time that was set by the insurance company, but I never saw any actual money cross my palm.  Mom did most of the work, so I expect she pocketed the cash.

My single biggest remembrance from the sorting was Mom coming down the basement stairs with a pile of clothes that she had stored in our second story closets.  She threw the stored clothes in a pile to be replaced.  There was a white, wide-skirted, summer dress featuring silver dollar sized turquoise polka dots on the top of the pile .  I thought Mom looked pretty in that dress.  I expect that all of those clothes were listed in the “destroyed” column.  I know that everything that was deemed lost was eligible to be replaced according to a “replacement schedule” supplied by the insurance company.

The major damage to the house was located in the bathroom and surrounding area.  The entire bathroom was gutted.  Most of the actual fire was confined to the bathroom walls, its floor, and the flooring adjacent to the bathroom.  The hardwood floors were taken out board by board until no damage could be identified on those left behind.   Most of the flooring was placed in a pile in the garage.

Some of the “stringers” that supported the floors had to be replaced.  I went back into the house a few times to retrieve things with my mom and got to see, first hand, the rebuilding process take place.  We never went when the workers were on site.  There were a couple of large air cleaners that ran full time to remove the smell of smoke.  I didn’t care for the new smell any more than I did for the smoke smell.  If I think about it, I can still smell both.

Weeks later, as the house repairs were nearing completion, I pulled all of the nails from the hardwood floorboards.  Dad set up a set of saw horses and gave me a claw hammer,  a crowbar, and a glass jar.  If the nails were easy to pull, I used the claw hammer.  If the nails were still tight, I tapped them with the hammer until the nail head appeared, and used the crowbar to remove it.  I placed each of the nails in the jar.  I was directed to be careful to avoid damaging the wood.

The jar of nails served two purposes.  Placing the nail into the jar insured that they wouldn’t get lost in the grass, and more importantly, I got paid a penny for each nail I pulled.  I don’t recall who paid me, but cash did flow.  My dad may have paid me and then sold the salvaged flooring, or the insurance company paid me and sold the wood. No matter the source, I grossed about $5.00 for my efforts.

When we worked late into the evening, we often went out for dinner at a Royal Oak   diner.  Our insurance company reimbursed my parents for meals that were eaten “out”.  I suspect there was a “meal allowance schedule” that we needed to follow.  I know for a fact that I ate chocolate cream or cherry pie alamode each night because it fell within our per diem.

I don’t recall when the fire took place.  I suspect the spring.  My winter that year was full of other issues.  I was hospitalized for a week in early December with pneumonia.  I was in one of the Detroit hospitals.  Mom visited every day and Dad came in after work.  Mom picked up my homework and books from school so that I wouldn’t “fall behind”.

I took an interest in art during my seventh grade year.  I specialized in pencil sketches of new car designs and naked ladies.  The cars had sleek,  smooth lines, that contrasted with Detroit’s designers.  The local designers preferred elaborate tail fin and tail light configurations.  My designs were simple and aero dynamic.

My ladies were just naked.  They were based on what I believed might be true because I had never really seen a naked lady except in magazines that we found on boy scout paper drives.

All of my sketches were in my English book.  Mrs. Walters was my seventh grade English teacher and our texts were designed to be written in.  They were a combination text and workbook.  My actual artwork was drawn on pieces of notebook paper and stuck in my textbook.   I figured that my artwork was safe in my locker away from inquiring eyes. Mrs. Walters never saw it, but Mom did.

TBC