THINGS I KNOW

It's July 2019 and I have come back to Saint Lucia...the place where this blog started during my two years with the United States Peace Corps.  This is the place I call my second home.  It's been nine years since I left.  I was concerned I may not feel I belonged anymore, but I shouldn't have.

One thing I miss is having the time to reflect on small bits of my life and write about it.  I have been to so many countries in my life, and I haven't found the time to write. So maybe I'll write a bit backwards while I'm here in Saint Lucia.

Right to left: Grandma Curci, my mother Pat Pettyjohn (Wegener), and my Great Grandmother, Grandma Cruz and then there is me.  I'm probably just a few months old

This blog is written for anyone who cares to spend the time reading it, but it is specifically written for my grandchildren.  When I was a young adult my grandmother wanted me to help her write a book about her life.  I never found the time for it.  Now that I'm older I wish I had.  I know she had an interesting life ,,, bits and pieces ... here and there.  I know she was married to a "womanizer".  I met him one time.  My mother hated him, likely because she was a child and didn't want to experience divorce, or maybe not.  Mom always said that when they got divorced he wanted to take her brother and leave mom to grandma.  I'm not sure that's the truth, but it's a story.  There are no pictures of him that I am aware of.

My grandmother lived in "sin" during the Great Depression.  His name was Dr. Orlich.  I know absolutely nothing about him, including how his name might be spelled or why he held the title of doctor.  They lived in a Chicago basement.  Grandma was lucky she had work.  She was a secretary in a meat packing company.  I remember one story she told.  All the men got raises and when she questioned why nothing more was in her paycheck, the boss responded "because men have families to support".  My grandmother was a proponent of women's equality.

She came to California and married my grandfather, Grandpa (Paul) Curci.  He was a bald Italian man who was always kind and loving to me.  I don't know much about him, where they met, or why he immigrated from "the old country".  I do know he had little education and was self-made and amassed wealth that carried him through life.  He hustled for work.  He bought and renovated homes, sold at a a profit.  He took old broken pallets, fixed them and sold them back to the farmers in Palos Verdes.  He liked to eat spaghetti and Italian bread which by the end of the week was hard, but was never thrown away.  Anyone who lived through the Great Depression never threw good food away.  In later life he spent his days with his buddies at the "used car lot".

Grandma waited on him as you might expect a woman to do in those times.  She wore an apron over her housedress, making sure she was home to cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner for him.  But she also worked in real estate sales and was fairly successful buying pieces of land and turning it over into a retirement fund.  Money was a contentious argument between them so they created a legal agreement to separate their financial lives.  Grandma supported herself.  She bought the duplex in Hawthorne where they lived.  She bought the land on Hawthorne Boulevard and built a home and apartment complex, later leasing some of the property to Chaffee Motors.  She did well for herself.  It is a conflict in my mind as to why she would be subservient to my grandfather, but on the other hand be a savvy business woman.  These questions could have been uncovered if I had found the time to help her with her book.  

And so, now I hope sometime in your life when you are older and curious you might pick up my blog and discover the person inside the grandmother exterior.