Friday, February 1, 2013


When doing research on Mark Sossi's IRS liens I decided to look for the old deeds on the land and home once owned by my father when he lived in Brownsville and worked at Pan Am as a radio operator.  The good news was, since 1944, it sold only twice.  He sold it to a man who eventually gave part of the land to his daughter and son-in-law.  Well the daughter and son in law still live in a house built after the original house was moved. 

I met them this evening - they were such nice people.  She blew me away and asked if I had a sister named Betty because she remembered playing with Betty when she would visit her grandfather across the street.  I called Betty this evening - amazing how someone can remember a fellow little girl's name some 69 years later.

My father bought the 10 acres in 1943 on what is today Waco road near Acacia lake road from a James Cowen/Cowan - I do not remember the spelling. 

The house is gone, but Maria is going to check with family members who she believes have pictures - maybe even some of my dad and older sisters and brother. 

I laughed so hard when Maria told me the girls hated the chicken coops - If you know my dad he tortured all of his children with chickens until my mother shortly after I was born in 1958 gave him an ultimatum - enough with the chickens or she was leaving him.  Two brothers also influenced his decision.

In my family the horror of taking care of the chickens is well known to all of my older siblings - it is one of those stories which get us all laughing.  Two of my brothers supporting my mother's wishes (but not under her direction) back in 1958, took an electrical cord from a lamp and stripped one end.  They would tie the wires to the chicken legs and then flip the switch.  Daddy came home to a bunch of electrocuted chickens and announced mom had won and we were moving to Salt Lake City.

I know what happened to the chickens in 1958 was cruel - but put it in context of being a young teenager being forced to care for chickens before school and sorting eggs and then having to help your dad to slaughter them after school.  Of course during the day while my older siblings cared for the chickens daddy was at the airport in Cleveland working as a radio operator for the airlines. 

I love family history - it reminds me of why family is so important.

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