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| Helena St Today |
They were the kids next door. Our families were both mega families even by the standards of the 60's. My mother and father had six kids. This probably had something to do with my mother being an only child and my father almost, as he had a single sister who was much older than him. I am not sure of the Moruds, but I can imagine that having many children was also for their parents, based on feelings of an era. We were post war children, the great hope and promise for a bright future.
Our parents were also living under the fear of total nuclear annihilation which made having a big family even more important. As kids we had assembly and drills to practice taking shelter under our desks or in the school's make shift bomb shelter. It was a time when President Kennedy was assassinated, The Beatles rocked the world, we landed on the moon but more than that we were kids without internet, no mobile phones or pagers, no cable tv and no music players. Some of us had radios that could only pick up one station. When we surfed we did it with sleds and cardboard boxes down a hill, we used knockers and knuckles to find our friends, we watched black and white tv once a week and listened to vinyl records if we were lucky enough to get a Christmas or Birthday 45 single. When you needed sugar, flour or salt you simply went next door with a cup and asked "my mom wants to borrow a cup of sugar...", done, no questions asked further.
A typical mother will answer the door to hear "Can Lisa come out and play?". A mother or father had to scream out and call home their kids who were out playing in the fields or the nearby woods and dogs would chorus out barks in response. People had strict times and schedules, because that is the only way you could find somebody by phone, a heavy clunky phone with a curly cord that was in the living room next to dad's arm chair. Cartoons were at 4pm and news was at 5pm, dinner at 6pm and bed at 9pm.
You got up and walked to school, maybe together with your mother. You saw your friends before or after school. You did things, real things, outside and got dirty and sweaty and came home after play really tired. Supper was delicious but never enough, dad ate first and prayers were said. You had milk for dinner and the desert was made by mom. There were no arguments and no and's if's or buts when it came time for bed. When you were punished it was for real, no police force or special services to save you.
When we came to the gravel/dirt Helena street hill it was a piece of property above the Moruds on the right hand side just in the middle of the hill. The Moruds were at the base of the hill. The so called HILL was in our mind a substantial piece of geography. As an adult when I visited the hill, it wasn't the same at all. I think they must have shortened it or at least made it smaller. I like my memory better!
We lived initially in a trailer. A trailer that gave you good shocks if we touched it with any tender part of our arms. I remember jumping down to avoid the shocks. This may have been for a very short time, but the shock still remains vivid in my memory. I don't think Oscar or Mr. Morud to us was very happy at having the prospect of squatters living next to his beautiful house. I'll bet he was happy when he first started seeing that dad was building a real house. But he might not have been happy to see that it was anything but traditional. Our house was a big black house with more roof than anything else. Dad made it like a big A frame. He said it was oriental, but I have never seen anything like it anywhere in my travels to the orient. Well, dad was very resourceful and our house was made up of 50% salvaged stuff and the remainder new material. As Richardson's it is our duty to never quite finish anything. Our house was a perfect example. Mr. Morud on the other hand was a perfectionist. Everthing about the Moruds home was complete and finished. Their yard was immaculate and the Boulder fence that separated their lot from ours was also a work of art.
I don't remember just exactly how we managed to meet the Morud kids, but I do suspect that it had absolutely nothing to do with our parents. Maybe my dad did try at some point in time to share a word or so, but for sure our unkempt lot with mountains of black berry bushes, long thick grass that resembled wheat and the dirt/mud patch here and there, made for sticky conversations, which my dad would definitely avoid. I could only imagine my dad saying, "How are you doing today Oscar", and he would reply, "It would be much better Don if you would take care of your lot!".
There were times when our house and lot actually looked good, and I am not talking about after we sold it to somebody else. My father I am sure appreciated how good the Moruds house looked and wanted to at least be a little non-contrasting like what would be the Adams Family House and Brady Bunch Home.
The Moruds house was a real piece of carefully thought out architecture, not an experiment. I am somewhat sure, but I may be corrected, I have to go on my remote and far away memories of the place. Actually, we didn't spend much time in their house. We were outdoor kids full of mud and crud. The kind of kids that as a parent you have to call screaming at the top of your lungs because we were always hard of hearing especially when having fun. Dad's voice was the kicker, time to really go home!
We knew they were Norwegian because my father told us. As kids you didn't care much about parents because you couldn't play with them. They were only useful to say yes when you went next door to ask if somebody could come out and play.
Originally Oscar had a big willow tree in the front yard. He was very proud of this tree and my father recollects how just during the Columbus Day storm, Oscar suggested that we evacuate our house because for sure the Douglas fir trees that loomed around our house would surely fall on us. Limbs and stuff like that were falling everywhere, but the most beautiful willow tree fell over and damaged the Moruds home.
Their home had oil heating and was therefore a great place to visit, if you could, for long spells during the winters. We had these base board electric heaters that couldn't warm your toe nails. We spent inordinate amounts of time in bed, where we could warm ourselves. Poor Daphne she had a room to herself and no brothers to heat it up! Actually her room was sort of to herself, we had to pass through it to get to our room.
The Morud girls lived on the ground floor while the boys lived in the basement, as I recollect. We spent some time in their house, but as I said we could probably count the times on all of our collective fingers. So what do I exactly remember is sketchy, but the living room had a grill floor heat source as did all of the ground floor rooms that were fun to be on when it was damp and cold.
The back yard had a magical tree that had a door that could never be opened by us, but probably was used frequently by the elves that lived there. The trees were tall but not as big as our trees. The yard was kept up nice and clean, not like our jungle.
I was a always causing Oscar much ado, as many times I put his rock wall out of shape by climbing on it. A boulder or two would tumble down and I would try as much as I could to act innocent. But he knew it was me. We had an agreement. If I did it again he would cut off my ears and dry them on the porch. I don't remember if I ever did it again. But I still have both ears!
There was only Laird, Daphne and myself who were playable. Forrest was a dinky baby and Steffan was too small to go out except in arms. The Moruds were mainly much older than us, so I don't remember doing anything with the boys. They were either too old or too young.
Daphne probably knew the others better than I did. She was an indoor type and I was anything but. I think she knew the older girls and boys. Whether they played or not I don't quite know.
We did make a Beatles concert together. Mop tops, broom handles and the audience was Lisa, Daphne and others that escape my memory.
We watched flying saucers that were really Good Year blimps. The Boogy man lived not far away, so it was a good idea to stay out of the woods that were between us and the gravel pit.
Laird and I were buddies mainly with Lisa, who for most parts was sort of an outdoor tom boy type, at least for a few summers or so. It is not like we spent all of our time with our neighbors nor did they spend their time with us. We were tramps. Who ever we could find at the time became our partners in crime.
Laird was the teddy bear who would rock on both legs back and forth singing teddy bear teddy bear, especially if he had poop in his pants. Him and Lisa would rock back and forth and sometimes play inside, but I wanted to go outdoors. Many times Lisa couldn't go out because it was raining or too late. Our parents weren't so strict or they forgot about us.
There were several golden summers and perfect winters where we played and played like time would never end. But it did. Summers gave up their glory and ended in school. Winters lost their few days of snow and became murky and gray - mud fest. I am sure we were not popular in the Morud's home with mud on our shoes.
Our favorite commercial activity not on Helena street was Super King. A supermarket on King Road where we would go buy penny candy. Once Lisa and I had an idea to go into business. Selling Kool Aid. The problem was that we didn't have any investment funds. I think it was me who had the idea to borrow Kool Aid from Super King. I don't think it panned out too well and these little escapades were probably the reason why Lisa may have been told to stay away form the likes of me. Too adventurous and inclined to do things that bordered on troublesome times for our parents.
Places of interest in and around the Helena St. were, The Gravel Pit, with its own annual ponds of murky green mucky creatures that were fun to collect in baby food jars. This all ended when there were no more babies. The sloping field that was for both the summer and winter Olympics. When it was late summer the grass would dry and great a perfect cardboard slide slope, Super King was a good source of card board boxes. During those rare winters when you get snow that stuck for more than a few hours. It was fun to go down on sleds. It was good to have friends that had a sled, or at least make friendship until the snow melted. Garbage can lids didn't work well as long as you broke the handles off.
Mud puddles. Helena street had the most amazing range and style of mud puddles. Some were deep enough to swim in (almost). They took on shapes and forms of the great lakes, pacific ocean and other famous bodies of water. Almost every year the road graders would ruin the road making it boring, but safe to drive fast on your bicycle.
The Moruds lost their mother early on, as it seemed to me. This was my first encounter with death. We didn't understand anything and it was scary. Things changed after that. Helena st. was not the same. The world was not the same. I never knew what happened to the Morud children exactly. I only knew that Lisa was with another family and I would only see her so beautiful a girl but at a distance merely a few times in High School. We never talked again. I never had the courage to ask her what happened nor how she felt. Our early childhood experiences were lost to time, and in growing up gone as fleeting memories.
We moved to Ceder Crest which is a whole new story and adventure. Somehow in leaving Helena street we were loosing touch with our very cherished beginnings, but moving on to new experiences. I don't know if this had any role to play in my life where I felt compelled to keep moving on to new experiences, but it may have.
The good news is, that through my sister's prowess with reaching out to old friends through facebook we managed to get in touch again. I received one day a friend request. It was Lisa Smith (Morud). I learned that she has a loving husband, children, friends and family. Her life is fulfilled with a new grand child and wonderful many experiences. I don't know about the other kids, but I do hope they have found their destinies.
