The 1960s-Part Two

 

Obviously, my last post couldn’t cover an entire decade—especially the one in which my whole life begins, so here's a little more:

Surprise: You’re Going to Live!

(Left to Right)
My Aunt Charlene (Mama's sister),
Daddy & Mama

I mentioned in my earlier post that my parents got married in 1961, and just three months later, Mama discovered she was pregnant with me! At the time, she was working at Woolworth’s, while Daddy was a motorcycle mechanic in San Diego, alongside his brother, my Uncle Johnny.

One fateful day, after working on a motorcycle, Daddy took it out for a test drive. WHAM! He was hit by a station wagon just a block away. Uncle Johnny heard the accident and looked out to see his big brother sprawled in the street. But instead of rushing to help, he walked back into the shop because he couldn’t bring himself to check on him!

Daddy ended up in the hospital, pretty banged up—he even had the name of the station wagon emblazoned on his thigh! Meanwhile, Mama, who had just found out she was pregnant, saw Daddy in that hospital bed and started sobbing. Daddy, thinking the doctors had given her the worst news possible, that he was going to die, was understandably upset while still trying to comfort his tearful wife. Finally, Mama caught her breath and announced, “I’m pregnant!” I like to think that news was a huge relief compared to what he thought was his imminent doom!

A little history: The F. W. Woolworth Company, a pioneer in the five-and-dime store phenomenon, had a rough start in 1879 in Utica, New York, but it soon flourished in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, as “Woolworth’s Great Five Cent Store,” evolving into the beloved five-and-dime many might remember. They even added lunch counters! I can personally attest that their chocolate malts filled a tall glass, and they would give you the tin with the leftover malt—delicious!

By the 1960s, five-and-dime stores were transforming into larger discount department stores. In 1962, Woolworth’s opened its discount chain, Woolco. That same year saw the birth of Target, Kmart, and even the first Wal-Mart!

Mom’s job at Woolworth’s was short-lived, as she quickly fell victim to morning sickness. Daddy continued working at the motorcycle shop and despite the accident, his love of motorcycles never faded. In the 50s and early 60s, he had raced alongside his twin brothers, Jimmy and Johnny Apple. Mama put a stop to his racing though—not so much out of fear for his safety, but because she was a little jealous of the gorgeous trophy girls who kissed the winners!

I'm planning a separate post talking about his love of motorcycles and racing adventures! Stay tuned!

The Stork Club: And Baby Makes Three

After my nine-month lease was up, I was unexpectedly evicted from my warm and cozy home. Apparently, I took the eviction poorly—because for the rest of my life, my mother liked to remind me that I came out screaming and have never shut my mouth since! Rude! She also loved to mention that I was born at 12:01 in the afternoon, making her miss lunch. I guess they should have let me stay put a little longer!

My first full day out of the womb was spent at Sharp Memorial Hospital in Kearny Mesa, a suburb of San Diego. I had always been told I was born in the hospital’s Stork Club, but while researching for this post, I discovered that babies were actually delivered in the maternity ward, and the Stork Club was a teaching facility for parents-to-be.

I told you in the last post I was 9lbs 15 oz!
I wasn't kidding!

My sister, Tammi, was also born at Sharp Memorial on our parents' fourth wedding anniversary. I’m pretty sure the traditional gift for a fourth anniversary is fruit or flowers, symbolizing the sweetness of marriage and love blossoming. Technically, since her last name was also Apple, that could cover the fruit part of the tradition! As for the sweetness…well, we didn’t always see eye to eye as kids, but we certainly do as adults.

In my family, we’ve always referred to the hospital simply as "Sharp’s." It wasn’t until I started researching for this blog that I discovered its full name: Donald N. Sharp Community Hospital. It was named in honor of a young man who lost his life in WWII at just 22 years old. In 1950, his devastated father, Thomas E. Sharp, donated $500,000 in his memory to help fund the planned hospital. The hospital was opened in 1955, and Mr. Sharp requested that his son’s portrait be displayed in the lobby for all time.

Back in the day, a stay in the maternity ward cost a mere $15, while a private room would set you back $24. Quite the deal for a new arrival, wouldn’t you say?

IT’S A GYPSY LIFE FOR ME

By the time I was five, we had lived in nine different homes and apartments in both San Diego and Orange Counties. One of my favorites was a beautiful house in San Clemente, California, where we lived when I was four. It’s the first home I can remember clearly. It had stone stairs leading from the double-car garage up a hillside to the front door, and a sunken living room with a cozy fireplace connecting it to the dining room. There was a large deck over the garage where Daddy and I would sit, watching for VW buses with peace signs painted on the front. 

It’s also where I got my first of many head injuries. Some might say it explains a lot about me—and they’re probably right! At four years old, Mama let me walk over to the neighbor’s house next door. It was a different time back then. But as luck would have it, while I was walking, a couple of little boys tossed a brick my way, splitting my head open! I’ve never been able to get a straight part in my hair since that day.

I also had my first encounter with firemen while we lived in that house. My Mama, bless her soul, wasn’t much of a cook, but she was trying! One day, while baking shrimp in our galley kitchen (see my previous post about the 60s and her love of shrimp), the oven caught fire. I remember the panic when my mom screamed for my little sister, who was not quite a year old, and we couldn’t find her. We frantically searched the house. Turns out she had been quietly sitting in the middle of the living room floor the entire time!

We had our last Christmas and birthday celebration in that house. I still remember the silver tree and the electric color wheel that lit it up. Both being June babies Tammi and I had a shared birthday party, and I remember Mama being terrified Daddy would drop the cake while climbing all those stairs. Miraculously, it survived the hike!

Shortly after our birthday, Mama converted to Jehovah’s Witness, and soon after, Daddy followed suit. So no more holiday or birthday celebrations. But don’t worry, my posts aren’t about religion, so we’ll move on. My Uncle Johnny—the one who was too scared to check on his brother lying in the street—was at our birthday party and convinced my dad to move back to San Diego for a job. I remember Mama being less than thrilled about it. So, once again, we found ourselves living in Paradise Hills.

While we lived in San Clemente, Daddy had been working for a cable company, installing cable at a nearby "fancy golf course" as he called it. After the move, he went to work for the Otis Elevator Company in San Diego as a welder. At some point during my childhood, he also welded in the shipyards. Somewhere out there is a ship with my mother’s name welded into it. It’s funny that March 23rd is both World Elevator Day and my Daddy’s birthday!

A Creative Legacy

While Daddy was welding—I believe it was for Otis—he often had to weld pipes. This required a second person to turn the pipe as he worked. Daddy was incredibly creative and inventive; he ended up building a machine to turn the pipes for him! He had the prototype in our garage for years, but unfortunately, the company got the patent on it because he built it during work hours.

This is Daddy welding a pipe while a
 second man turned the pipe for him. 

Although I couldn’t find any specifics about the pipe turner in my research on the Otis Elevator Company, I did discover that they celebrated their 170th anniversary in September 2023! The company was founded by Elisha Graves Otis, who installed the first passenger elevator in the E.V. Haughwout building in New York City back in 1857.

Fast forward to 1907, just twenty-one years after the dedication of the Statue of Liberty, when Otis installed the first passenger elevator inside the statue’s stone pedestal. Unfortunately, visitors must still trek up 377 steps to reach the crown itself—no thank you, not with my fear of heights and aversion to weak knees!

In 1962, the centerpiece of Seattle’s World Fair was the iconic Space Needle, which featured three custom-designed Otis elevators. And in 1967, Otis engineered, manufactured, and installed elevators and escalators in the Twin Towers in New York City. Tragically, those same towers were destroyed in the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001.

For more fascinating information on the history of Otis elevators, you can visit www.otis.com!

This is our grandson learning to
weld in 2019.

Daddy's Innovations and Our Corvair Adventures

Another brilliant innovation from Daddy was a bike rack. With four of us, we had four bikes, and he wanted us to be able to take them out for rides. So, he built a bike rack that fit onto the roof of our Corvair, and it was nothing short of genius! We would drive around with our bikes on the roof, and people would point and stare—apparently, they’d never seen anything like it! If only he had patented that design; bike racks are completely commonplace now in 2024!

Having an inventive dad is pretty cool. He built us a camper from scratch that sat on the bed of his old pickup. We enjoyed camping in the Laguna Mountains, San Diego County.

A partial view of the camper daddy built.
(Left to Right) Grandma Hill, Tammi, Mama, and me.

Speaking of that Corvair…my sister and I both had our share of adventures in it, including some rather memorable spills! The Corvair was a two-door car, and one day, while Mama was driving us home, I was seated up front. As we turned left onto our road, the door swung open, and I literally fell out but managed to hang on to the door! In hindsight, I might have been better off letting go, as my knees ended up scraped raw.

Our covair looked almost identical to 
this one. I saw this at a car show in 
Show Low, AZ.

Not long after that, Mama and my sister were driving in a parking lot when the passenger door opened, and Tammi fell out! Unlike me, she didn’t hang on and was almost run over by another car! I really don’t think that car liked kids. With all our escapades, it’s a miracle we survived our childhood in that Corvair!

Same car as above.

Growing Up in Paradise Hills

We spent the next four years living in Paradise Hills, where I attended the nearby grade school from kindergarten to third grade. Opened in 1959, it was named after Civil War general Robert E. Lee. The school carried that name for 57 years until 2016, when it was renamed Pacific View Leadership Elementary School.

Grandma & Papa Hill bought us new bikes.
A trike for my sister and a two-wheeled green Schwinn for me,
with a white banana seat and a sissy bar!
(Back, Left to Right) My Mama and Grandma Hill
(Front, Left to Right) My sister Tammi, me,
our cousins Charlie and John.

Back in those days, I loved reading comic books, with Archie and Millie the Model being my favorites. On the back of those comics was a full-color ad that boldly proclaimed, “MAKE MONEY, GET PRIZES, with Fast Selling American Seeds.” Who could resist? Eager to get my parents an anniversary gift, I immediately ordered a box of flower and vegetable seeds. When they arrived, I was so excited that I set off through the neighborhood to start my sales venture. I was probably only seven or eight years old at the time, so Mama followed me, staying on the sidewalk while I proudly made my sales pitch. Believe it or not, I sold every single pack! I was able to triumphantly present my parents with a small plastic 110 camera. The best part? It actually worked, and I still own it today!

My next comic book adventure involved “Entering the WONDERFUL WORLD OF AMAZING LIVE SEA-MONKEYS!” I not only purchased them one time but ended up buying them at least three additional times! I loved my sea monkeys and found them fascinating to watch. I’ll admit, I am pretty easily entertained! I wasn’t even disappointed when they looked nothing like the picture and turned out to be nothing but brine shrimp.

From our home in Paradise Hills, I could watch naval jets zoom by and hear the air raid siren sound at noon. From the backyard, I could see all the way to Tijuana, just seventeen miles away as the crow flies. We often made trips down to Tijuana to buy delicious, fresh flour and corn tortillas. My sister and I would ride in the backseat, and Mama would hand us still-warm tortillas while Daddy drove us home. They were amazing!

One visit Daddy drove us through a particularly poor neighborhood in Tijuana. Even after fifty years, I can still picture the homes made from cardboard and scraps, which always made me appreciate what we had. We weren’t wealthy by American standards—more like upper-lower class to lower middle-class—but by comparison, we were certainly rich.

Skating into Fun

One of my favorite pastimes was roller skating! My first pair fit over my shoes and had a key to tighten them up. Then, Grandma and Papa Hill gifted me a shiny pair of white roller skates, and I became the neighborhood roller queen!

When I wasn’t gliding along the sidewalk, I was meeting my cousins at the roller rink, where we’d dance to the Hokey Pokey. We had such great times! Grandma even sewed me a pink poodle skirt to wear, making it all the more special. So much innocent fun.

Fun with my cousin Charlie at the roller rink.

Pets and Vets

While living in Paradise Hills, we had two dogs: a dachshund named Sampson and a little mixed breed I named Mr. Colors. My sister couldn’t pronounce that, so he became known as Puppy. They were both precious, but sadly, Sampson came down with distemper and passed away. I honestly don’t remember us or anyone we knew taking pets to a veterinarian in the 60s.

By the mid-1960s, there were approximately 20,000 veterinarians in the USA. Fast forward to 2024, and that number has jumped to about 126,138! Interestingly, the 1960s saw a change in the veterinary field, with growing acceptance of women in the profession, and now nearly 70% (2023 stats) are women.

Feel free to comment with your memories of the 60s. Next post I’ll be moving on to the 70s, so be sure to check back!