We manage to get somewhat, somehow, settled in the two-bedroom apartment, but I'd rather not remember HOW.
When Stevie was little, I taught him to put his index fingers up to his forehed, like horns, and say "I'm a little angel." He said that when he first met his grandparents when they came to visit in Austin. They keep reminding him of it now. They thought it was SO cute. He's a little beyond that cute stage now, but...
Anyway...Stan applies for a teaching position at the high school he graduated from, but disappointment! they don't have any openings for history teachers. Shortly, he's emplyed at an inner city school, another disappointment. I discovered sometime back that my husband is a bit of a snob, and an inner city school is not much to his liking. Oh, well, he needs to support his family, so he accepts.
We find a nice three bedroom house in North Long Beach, nice fenced yard, two car garage, nice neighborhood. I think his parents were relieved when we were out, although they'd never say so. I was relieved, and don't mind saying so. We get our furniture out of storage, where it had been since T & C delivered all our possessions for us. Now, they're back at home in Santa Barbara.
The boys share one bedroom, Stan has one room for his workroom, and lovely of lovelies, the master bedroom has a door out to the back porch and back yard. Oooh! there's a tree for climbing, too. And a couple fruit trees. One year I can peaches. But that's a later story.
Of course, Stevie is cruising the neighborhood and getting acquainted, and when school starts, he's pretty well acclimated to the neighborhood. After a few weeks, we get a notice that Stevie has a speech impediment, and the school nurse advises speech therapy. OK, we know he has trouble with esses and ch's, so OK, speech therapy. Pretty soon, he's able to say squirrels instead of thquirrelth. But the therapist also eliminates his Texas drawl. Stevie has never forgiven ME for that.
It's funny. When we were living in the South, we were called Yankees, and teased about our accents. Now we're back in California, and we're called Rebs and teased about our accents. Tch!
School is going well for Stan, too. He's found that even though he's teaching in an inner city school, there are scholars who are eager to learn. Once again he sends notices home outlining the course, what he expects from the students, when assignments are due, test schedules, and asking for parents' cooperation in the education of their children. The notices are supposed to be signed by parents (both if it isn't a single-parent family), acknowledging that they know and are in accord with Stan's requirements, and the notices sent back to be filed away.
I'm getting acquainted in the neighborhood, too, and become close with my next door neighbor who is about the same age. Her children are older than mine, but she got started earlier than I did. Her youngest child is just a little older than Stevie, but close enough that they become pals.
I think I'm coming to a close of "Family Life" entries, but look for a couple more. Then I'm going on to some more contemporary subjects. Maybe.
Shalom