![]() ![]() I landed in this mix of unruly behavior when I was born at home on Friday morning, April 12, 1935, in Rosebud, Texas, eight o’clock in the morning. Then, Joe Eber said, Oh, no you don’t, and grabbed an ice cube from his glass and threw it at Geraldine. Then when ice cubes flew back and forth across the dinner table, I had to duck my head because Geraldine threw an ice cube from her tea glass at my brother, Joe Eber. Everybody laughed, including Mother, but not me. Mother squatted as she went down, resting her arms and chin on the table. with Cort Conley.) 1 The Victorian House 1939 – 1941Ī memory was etched in my brain at four years old when Geraldine, my oldest sister, pulled the chair out from under Mother as she was about to sit down at the dinner table. (Annie Dillard, Introduction to Modern American Memoirs, 1996 ed. God forgive me i f incidents that purge the writer nauseate the reader. Sibling rivalries developed during my coming of age, and while some instances were growth experiences that every child endures-like learning to deal with a bully in school-other instances gave little to bolster my security as an individual. Still living in that house, I graduated from high school in 1953. We lived in the Main Street house from 1945 to 1949 when our final move was to the house I call the Glass House on Stallworth Street. There, he enjoyed the easiness of walking across the road to work. Later, after enduring hardships of the country life for a year, we moved back to town in a house across the street from my dad’s service station on Main. After only one year, my parents, two brothers, my sister, and I moved to a house in the country five miles out of town. Returning to Rosebud in 1943, Dad rented a yellow clapboard house in town. We lived there and in another house on Cherry Street in downtown Orange while I went to the first and second grade in elementary school. In 1941, my father began working for a shipyard in Orange, Texas where we moved into a residential addition specifically built for shipyard workers. In Rosebud 1939, my earliest memory of home was a Victorian two-story house. The houses I lived in with my family anchor the memories of my childhood. My siblings and I had different experiences in our home life, but the reactions and emotions expressed here are solely mine. In addition, I grew up in the Thrasher family of eight children. While I would never have chosen to live as an adult in Rosebud, I have wondered why it continued a hold on me. I grew up in Rosebud, a small town in central Texas. ![]()
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