Old Moe, (our great big Ford F-250) continued to take our
family on many special trips. With the addition of our camper we had so
much fun. Then, fall of 1995 I got a call at work. "You need to come get
your grandchildren." an unknown voice told me. I rushed over to their
apartment to find out what had happened. Turns out personal issues with
their mom and dad had created a situation where the children needed some
place else to stay for a while.
The children then 6
months, 4 and 5 were hungry, anxious and tired. I took them home and sat
down. "Oh, " I said to myself. "This is kind of a big problem." Then
the baby cried, small, wet, hungry. I knew that me sitting there wasn't
going to take care of his needs. I went to K Mart, bought diapers,
formula, bottles. Then I stopped at Safeway and got extra food. The
kids, fussy, tired, and hungry welcomed grandma in their own way. The
baby, once fed, dry and fed, snuggled in my arms and fell asleep. The 4
year old, walked up, kicked me firmly in the shins saying, "I hate you
grandma!" and walked away defiantly.
It was admittedly more than a little daunting. At first things were chaotic. A new baby, two very active
red-haired young boys, and three other young teenagers. I gave up my
room and let the children have a room. Sleeping on the couch isn't too
bad, good thing, I was there over a year.
I was determined that these newest additions to our home
would not upset our ability to go camping. So we prepared (we thought)
and away we went to Fort Stevens. The first night in the camper, the
baby screamed non-stop. It was an endurance test for all of us. I don't
know if he was getting sick, or it was just unfamiliar in the camper but
he hated it, with a passion. Valiantly we kept on with the trip trying
to recapture some of the delight of the trails and beaches. It was much
like trying to catch a wild horse with a rope made of shoe laces.
Dozens of scuffles with the two boys, baby needing changed, fed, by the
end of three nights all of us were exhausted.
Home again, I tried to rethink things. Obviously things
couldn't keep going just like always, we were going to have to adapt.
Several months went by and the winter was upon us. We tried a few more
day trips to the coast but it continued to be a huge task. I continued
to brainstorm, I knew getting away was something we all treasured. I
knew I wasn't willing to give that up. Time went by, a year, then two. The two older boys
settled down into the household and found their place in the world. The
baby, well, who doesn't love a new baby? He was pampered, played with
and adored. He became a happier soul, (just still hated the camper).
Reading The Columbian daily newspaper, I continued to
keep an eye out for interesting things. One ad caught my eye, "Free
Trailer, you move." Hmm..... I started thinking. Wow, a free trailer,
now that was cool, and you couldn't beat the price. I called the number
listed in the ad and got directions. I drove over and checked the
trailer out. For one, it wasn't a trailer, it was a mobile home, 50 feet
long, 12 feet wide with two bedrooms. I checked it out, inside and out.
I liked it. Something clicked.
Now, the question became where in the world was I going to
put it? I checked into every mobile home park on the coast of
Washington and Oregon, (well most of them). There wasn't a place to put
them. I began to search further inland. In Westport, Oregon there was a
place called, Mr. Ed's Mobile Home park. I called and they said, "Yes
they had a space available." I described the trailer and they said, "Okay,
that'll work." We scheduled a time and date to deliver it.
Well, I really didn't have all that much money. I asked
around everyone I knew, "Know anything about moving a mobile home?"
"Nope," was the general answer. Finally someone knew these Russian guys
who had trucks, they gave me their number. Through broken English
enough communication occurred for them to set up a time to come look at
the trailer.
In the mean while I was visiting the trailer, cleaning,
getting it ready. The manager of the park came up and knocked on the
door one day, "Incidentally, "she said, "I can give you another trailer
free." "What," I said incredulous, "Another trailer??" "Yes, " she
answered, "another one." We walked through the park to another row of
homes. She showed me inside another trailer. "Hmmm," I thought, "I
wonder what I could do with this?"
By the time the movers came to check out the
trailer and get the price set of the move I decided to go out on a limb.
"There's another trailer here you can have if you move this one." I
told the leader of the group. "Really," he responded with a thick
accent, "I need one for my mountain property." I showed him the other
trailer, we shook hands and a deal was struck.
On the day of the move, I was nervous and excited. "We've
got to go over the bridge into Oregon." The Russian driver managed to
communicate to me. "I don't have a permit, and they never have that
weigh station open." Well it was too late for me to hem and haw over his
breaking the law, (or so I thought then) and away we went. The drove
like the proverbial bats out of he double l.
Down through industrial Portland
we went, one door flapping in the wind. The man did not stop until we
pulled into the trailer park. We drove until we reached the number of
the space where the manager had told me I could put it. The Russian men
got out of the truck. They spoke in heated Russian, walking back and
forth in the space. Finally they came up to my car, "NO!" they pointed
to the space, "NO!" At this point I was a little frantic, what did they
mean, "No!" I got out walked the length of the trailer, then I walked the
length of the space. Oh, the light dawned. I understood what they meant
by the no, it wouldn't fit, no way.
I knocked on a trailer door and asked where the manager
lived, the person said, "Oh she lives in that green trailer over there,
but don't bother she's in town shopping." Oh boy, I thought to myself, now I'm in for it.. I asked
the lady if there were any other spots, and she said, "No this is the only
one." She scratched her head and then said, "Well, this outfit owns the
park across the street, I think there's a space there."
Off we went following her directions, about a mile or so.
We drove around looking for empty spots. A large, vacant double-wide
spot sitting on a huge lot with trees adjacent to fields beckoned. The
truck drivers stopped, and started unhooking the trailer, "We go now. "
they said emphatically, "Job!" "Wait," I pleaded, unsure of what to do.
"No," they answered, "We go now!." They backed the trailer into the
space, unhooked all the lines and sped away. "Oh," I thought, "Here we
are."
So over the next few weeks I learned a lot about hooking up
water lines, sewer lines and settling in to the trailer park. The kids
thought it was a real adventure. We brought their bikes, roller blades,
scooters and toys down to the trailer. We stocked the cupboards with
pots and pans and lots of board games. At last I had a good reason to go back to Goodwill and I
picked up beds, couches, tables and chairs. We now had a vacation
place.
The baby loved this new vacation home. He could play,
people seemed happier and trips to the coast were just for the
afternoon. We didn't have TV, or video games but none of the kids seemed
to miss them. When we went to the trailer, we went there for fun.
We kept the trailer for 6 years, enjoyed weekend after
weekend just relaxing and playing. It was a happy place for all of us.
In 2001 one child made a strange request, "Mom, couldn't we just
live here?" I thought it over, I owned a house in Vancouver. What
would it be like to live in the vacation home for a while?
Perhaps impulsively I decided, "Why not?" and away we
went. For about a year and a half we stayed in the trailer. The kids
changed schools and got used to being country kids. I continued to
pay the mortgage on the Vancouver home sitting empty, except for all our
good furniture.
It was an adventure for sure where I had a chance to be
with the children and learn how to appreciate a simpler kind of life.
Sometimes, less is more. Now at this juncture of my life where I am in
the process of downsizing, it helps me to remember these happy times
where "stuff" didn't equate with happiness. Where family times didn't
revolve around electronics but just good old fashioned fun.
Today,
when material things threaten to engulf you with their demands remember
God challenges us having food and clothes to be content. Sometimes,
simpler is better.
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