About me:
I was born exactly 1 year to the day, prior to "The Day The Music Died", February 3, 1959. That was the day on which Ritchie Valens ("La Bamba"), J.P. Richardson ("The Big Bopper" - "Chantilly Lace"), and Buddy Holly ("That'll Be The Day") were en route to another gig on their 24-city tour. Tragically, their plane went down, ending the short lives of three up-and-coming new rock and roll stars...
Mine was a happy childhood, along with my 2 brothers. The very early years found us living and playing around SE Portland, near 92nd and SE Division Streets. We lived in a small three bedroom home during the famous Columbus Day Storm of 1962.
I remember that storm because my older brother was sent home from school early, and I recall him walking down the sidewalk toward our home, the trees nearly bending down to the street. That's how strong the winds were. (Consequently, a similar storm hit Portland almost 30 years later.)
The other thing I remember about that day was that our neighbor's chimney, made entirely of bricks, was blown over and its bricks spilled into our basement. Amazing! I don't think there was anything left of that chimney... only its remnants. The only other memories I have of that house was my younger brother coming home from the hospital in April, 1962. Shortly after that, in the summer, I believe, we moved from SE Portland to NE Portland, in the exclusive Maywood Heights neighborhood. (This is now the area where the I-205 freeway intersects with I-84; the Parkrose School District.)
That was where I climbed up the trails to the top of Rocky Butte, overlooking NE Portland, and the Gateway area. My older brother's friend accompanied me, I don't recall why. Anyway, we get to the top and there was this cool rock formation we called The King's Chair. As I sat there, my brother's friend sneaked up behind me and either pushed or scared me so that I fell down the rock face, some 50 yards straight down. I broke my right leg at the knee cap, and spent most of 1st grade at home in a plaster cast that weighed almost as much as me. (Now, my right leg is about 3/4 inch shorter than my left.)
Sadly, within 2 years of that move, my mom and dad decided to get a divorce. He moved out-of-state, while we moved across town to SW Portland, near Cedar Hills. We lived in the apartments behind the shopping center for not quite a year. Then a wonderful thing happened: She met an amazing gentleman... Mr. McJury.
In many ways, I truly feel this is when my life began. Yes, my father brought me into the world along with my mother, but after their divorce, he left the city and moved out-of-state. We wouldn't see him for about 5 years, and then when we did, he'd remarried. We hardly knew him. He spent the next several years trying to be a father, when he should have spent that time, trying to be our friend. Things were just never the same after that divorce, not for us kids anyway.
