Uncle E.B. and Aunt Paralea - Circa 1947Some of my earliest memories are when I was two or three years old and was at my Aunt Paralea's house, or The Dyer Street House. She kept me during the day from the time I was two-ish until I was four. Through the years my aunt, grandmother, and great-grandmother's half-brother lived in the Dyer Street house there so there is no telling how long it has been in the family. I remember it had a strawberry patch and a fish pond in the back yard.
The living room had a linoleum "rug" which was blue with a floral pattern. By the time I came along, most of the pattern had been worn off. There was a low bookshelf in one corner with a square compartment door on the lower right-hand side. The door had a round beveled mirror on the front. I would crawl over to it and try to get it open. I never could. I would say "Open Open" until somebody opened it for me. I remember doing this over and over. Funny thing was there was nothing in there. I guess my two-year-old brain didn't retain that information.
Aunt Paralea and Uncle E.B. had two dogs. One was an ancient old blind hound dog that had to take pills. Aunt Paralea would scramble an egg every morning to feed the dog his pill. I don't remember his name but I wasn't allowed to go near him for fear he would bite me. The other dog was a yappy little chihuahua named Danikin. I didn't like Danikin. He was spastic just like every chihuahua I've ever met.
Uncle E.B. and Aunt Paralea didn't have children, so they spoiled me rotten. Aunt Paralea would buy all kinds of cute clothes and dress me up like a doll. She had professional portraits taken of me fairly often too. They fed me Hostess Cupcakes and Twinkies. I would eat the icing and the filling but didn't want the cake part. Uncle E.B. would eat the cake part for me so I didn't have to.
The last memory I have of the Dyer Street house is the day Aunt Paralea died. I was about four or so. We had visited the neighbor lady that morning and the she had given me some bird's eggs from a nest she had accidentally knocked out of the hedgerow. I took the eggs and nestled them in some toilet paper in a cigar box. I put my Barbie doll on them so they would hatch. I was contemplating why they weren't hatching when the doctor came to see about Aunt Paralea. I wasn't allowed to go in the bedroom where Aunt Paralea was so I didn't really know what was going on. Aunt Paralea died that afternoon of a heart attack. She was only 46.
Uncle E.B. remarried a widow lady who had kids and grandkids, so he got a whole new batch of kids to spoil. He was the only grandfather they ever had and they adored him. He moved away from the Dyer Street house so it sat vacant for some thirty-five years or so. I saw him only once more before he died, and he had been widowed once again. He moved back to the Dyer Street house for a year or two before he went to the nursing home. After he died they sold the house for something like $9,000. I shudder to think what condition it was in after all those years.
I always thought Uncle E.B. was just a little hick plumber from a little hick town who probably barely managed to finish the 8th grade. When I read his obituary I was stunned to learn he was an officer in the U.S. Navy, had graduated from U.S. Naval Academy, and later returned to Annapolis as an instructor. How he came to be living in the ratty old Dyer Street house may forever be a mystery. He must have loved my Aunt Paralea very much. After years and years of being married to someone else, his last wish was that he be buried next to Aunt Paralea. They are together once again in our family cemetery.
The living room had a linoleum "rug" which was blue with a floral pattern. By the time I came along, most of the pattern had been worn off. There was a low bookshelf in one corner with a square compartment door on the lower right-hand side. The door had a round beveled mirror on the front. I would crawl over to it and try to get it open. I never could. I would say "Open Open" until somebody opened it for me. I remember doing this over and over. Funny thing was there was nothing in there. I guess my two-year-old brain didn't retain that information.
Aunt Paralea and Uncle E.B. had two dogs. One was an ancient old blind hound dog that had to take pills. Aunt Paralea would scramble an egg every morning to feed the dog his pill. I don't remember his name but I wasn't allowed to go near him for fear he would bite me. The other dog was a yappy little chihuahua named Danikin. I didn't like Danikin. He was spastic just like every chihuahua I've ever met.
Uncle E.B. and Aunt Paralea didn't have children, so they spoiled me rotten. Aunt Paralea would buy all kinds of cute clothes and dress me up like a doll. She had professional portraits taken of me fairly often too. They fed me Hostess Cupcakes and Twinkies. I would eat the icing and the filling but didn't want the cake part. Uncle E.B. would eat the cake part for me so I didn't have to.
The last memory I have of the Dyer Street house is the day Aunt Paralea died. I was about four or so. We had visited the neighbor lady that morning and the she had given me some bird's eggs from a nest she had accidentally knocked out of the hedgerow. I took the eggs and nestled them in some toilet paper in a cigar box. I put my Barbie doll on them so they would hatch. I was contemplating why they weren't hatching when the doctor came to see about Aunt Paralea. I wasn't allowed to go in the bedroom where Aunt Paralea was so I didn't really know what was going on. Aunt Paralea died that afternoon of a heart attack. She was only 46.
Uncle E.B. remarried a widow lady who had kids and grandkids, so he got a whole new batch of kids to spoil. He was the only grandfather they ever had and they adored him. He moved away from the Dyer Street house so it sat vacant for some thirty-five years or so. I saw him only once more before he died, and he had been widowed once again. He moved back to the Dyer Street house for a year or two before he went to the nursing home. After he died they sold the house for something like $9,000. I shudder to think what condition it was in after all those years.
I always thought Uncle E.B. was just a little hick plumber from a little hick town who probably barely managed to finish the 8th grade. When I read his obituary I was stunned to learn he was an officer in the U.S. Navy, had graduated from U.S. Naval Academy, and later returned to Annapolis as an instructor. How he came to be living in the ratty old Dyer Street house may forever be a mystery. He must have loved my Aunt Paralea very much. After years and years of being married to someone else, his last wish was that he be buried next to Aunt Paralea. They are together once again in our family cemetery.
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