19 Residences in 19 Years of Hell and Humor

We moved again, this time back to town, because the farm was not paying off as it should be, according to my father. My dad sold everything but the house furniture and personal belongings. We had only the mules left to sell. We had eaten all the chickens up, and there were no eggs left. The chicken must be there before the egg, or there are no eggs. Work in town could not be found. My dad signed up for the army again. Dad told my mom that the allotment money would be more now since there were four boys now. Dad said another hitch in the army would be good. And when the hitch was up, maybe he could find a good-paying job when he got out. We moved into an upstairs apartment. The apartment was at the end of an overpass for the railroad. Would you believe that my adopted grandma was going to be our next-door neighbor? Grandma had lost her home too. Her husband was a drinking man, and he spent all his money on drinking whiskey and beer. Grandma’s husband finally drank himself to death. Grandma had lost everything and moved into an apartment. Bill, Grandma’s oldest son, was in the air force and put her on the allotment; he was taking care of his mom and brother. When Bill came home on leave and needed something from the store, he would call on me for the errand. I would have to tell my mom first, and off I would go on the errand. When I got back, he would give me some money. This would make me feel big and important.