A Simpler Time: Growing Up Before Computers

By Douglas Souris

About the Book

Douglas Souris shares his experiences growing up and living in different areas of the country, but mostly regales us with stories about his time in Parsons, West Virginia. Back when kids were outside from dawn until dusk, roamed the neighborhood with friends, and drank from the water hose. Take a trip back in time, when life was simple.

About the Author

Douglas Souris grew up in the 60s and carried the morals of that generation into his professional life working in both paid positions and volunteer positions in health care. While he is currently retired, he is still interested in the EMS field and the changes that are currently taking place in it.

Souris enjoys being retired and having more time to spend with his wife and dog. Being involved with scouting in his youth developed his love of the outdoors, which has continued in adulthood. He has rekindled his love of photography—mostly nature photos—and taking walks in the outdoors.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: May 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9781649135940

Book preview

Souris_Title_Page.eps

The contents of this work, including, but not limited to, the accuracy of events, people, and places depicted; opinions expressed; permission to use previously published materials included; and any advice given or actions advocated are solely the responsibility of the author, who assumes all liability for said work and indemnifies the publisher against any claims stemming from publication of the work.

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2023 by Douglas Souris

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, downloaded, distributed, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, including photocopying and recording, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Parsons, West Virginia

Introduction

There are people who spend their whole life living within a few miles of where they were born. Other than short trips for vacations, they don’t feel the need to go anywhere else. For me, however, traveling across the country was the norm. That’s because my dad worked for a company that required him to move around from state to state to set up new satellite tracking stations. As a result, we never stayed in one area for more than two or three years.

I really don’t remember very much about most of the places we lived during my earlier years other than quick flashes of something that may have happened or an image of a room in one of the houses we lived in. There are, of course, tons of photos my parents took of everything we did, but without having someone explain what the pictures are, or when they were taken, they only add to the confusion of trying to figure out what they mean. As a result, I’m not sure if what I remember is real or just some made up image. And my memory doesn’t become reliable until I was about seven-years-old.

Now that I’m sixty, I have a whole lot of memories. Some of them are very memorable. However, my fondest memories seem to be when we lived in the small town of Parsons, West Virginia. Strangely, I don’t know if Parsons was the best town I grew up in or if growing up in Parsons was the best time to grow up. Maybe it was a combination of the two that has made Parsons so memorable. Regardless of the reason, one thing is clear to me, and that is my time living in Parsons was the best.

1

in the beginning

I was born in El Paso Texas. When I was about two, we moved from El Paso to, I believe, Sunny Vale, California. From there we came all the way across the country to a house somewhere in Alexandra, Virginia. I wish I could say more about these locations, but I have no memory of any of them that I can recall. Finally, we moved to a house on Half Street, just off US One, in the Woodland area of Virginia. And this is where my earliest memories begin.

I remember this house was on a dirt road with a couple of other houses. Most of the area around the house was farmland. I know there were some other kids in the area, but I cannot remember very much about them. However, I do have some memories of things that happened while living here.

I know this is where one of my one of my sisters was born. She, however, never made it out of the hospital. If she had lived, she would have been the fourth child. We would then have two boys and two girls. This is also where we were living when JFK was shot and where I went to the first grade. I know the shooting really upset my mom. My dad had a friend who always needed a place to stay, and he was living with us at the time. When mom told him about the shooting, he acted like he was happy about it. Needless to say, he moved out rather quickly.

This is where we all learned about ground bees and not walking through their nests. On that day we were covered in bees. Needless to say, for next few days we would freak out whenever we saw on bee, This is also the house where I stepped on a bee in my bare feet only to go back out moments later and step on a different bee with my other foot. I remember painting our dog and the look on my mom’s face when she saw him. While these memories are rather vivid, most of my memories are very vague and seem to be more of a dream than anything real.

Then there was the house on Mount Vernon Highway where I went to the second grade for the first time. I do remember more about the house and some things that happened here. The house was a rambler with three bedrooms. My brother and I shared one room while my sister had her own room. However, once the twins were born, she started sharing a room with them.

Yes, I do remember more about living here than in the previous house. I remember playing on the big, open field behind the house that was part of the high school playing fields. The county had put a walkway next to our house down to the school as a short cut for the kids who walked to school. And it also served as a quick exit for kids who wanted to hang out in the back of the school at night and party.

Normally no one seemed to care they were back there. Most of the time they were quiet and not bothering anyone. However, every now and then, they started to get a little too loud and then the cops would be called. One night a group of kids with their bikes were hanging out at the field when the cops came to break it up. Now these weren’t the brightest kids in the neighborhood because once the cops shown up, they jumped off of their bikes and ran. Some of them were caught; however, several of them managed to make it to the woods and disappear. The cops now had several bikes that needed to be secured, and since they did not want to drag them back to the station, they decided to keep them at our house. And that is how we ended up with several bikes locked up in our front yard. Anyone coming to claim their bike had to wait until the cops came with the key to unlock them. A few brave souls managed to muster the nerve to come and reclaim their bikes. But I guess once the word got out that the cops would not release the bikes unless the parents also showed up, several of them decided the bikes were just not worth it. And after a few days, any bikes that were left were ours. And this is where I got my first bike.

In both houses, it is the big events, such as the bike issue, that stand out because of the long-term impact they had. The day-to-day stuff is still fuzzy. Sure, I can remember staying up, or trying to stay up, until midnight because it meant I would have been up for two days instead of one. I can remember going to a summer school and passing out because my tooth fell out. And I can remember fighting with my brother over whether we were going to watch his Batman or my Lost in Space on TV. However, moving always seemed to really spark a lot of memories. I guess it was all the drama that surrounded moving that stands out. And the move from Mount Vernon all the way across country definitely was a memorable experience. And the first memory deals with the several moves we had to endure before we finally settled down.

When we first arrived in Brewster, we lived in a temporary trailer park that was set up in an old public picnic area that was next to the river that circled the town. The company Dad was working for knew housing in the area was short and with the number of people moving in, they needed to provide somewhere for us to live until we could find a place. So they took over the park and converted it into company housing projects for all of the new employees that would be moving in.

Most of the trailers were small and in need of work. There were electric hooks up but no phone lines for us. The water came from a garden hose hooked up to the side of the trailer. But the septic tanks had to be flushed out every few days because they were so small. But the trailers weren’t meant to be a long-term fix for the