Sheryl got her own room. Steve had to share his with Jason.
The Kitchen was a lot bigger than the one in the old house. It opened up into the dining room that had large sliding glass doors that allowed exit to the back yard. The living room was huge compared to the old house. It was a tract home. Built as if on an assembly line, it was the same as the other houses in the neighborhood, only the floor plans had been turned over or upside down and the paint was different.
Steve’s new home was on a corner lot. So it had a much bigger yard than the others down the street did.
Steve started his new school in third grade. His teacher was Mr. Rasmuson, Steve’s first male teacher. Mr. Rasmuson’s method of teaching was new to Steve. There was a period for each of the basics, like Reading, Writing and Arithmetic, just like Steve’s old school. This school was smaller, with fewer kids and a lot bigger playground. The old school was all blacktop. The new school had blacktop, but it also had a large field that included a Baseball Diamond, Volleyball and Soccer; and best of all, grass and lots and lots of dirt.
Mr. Rasmuson didn’t just teach basics like the old teachers. Each day was different. One day it would be Science and Mr. Rasmuson would show how clouds were formed through evaporation, or how a can would collapse when a vacuum was created. One day was Art. A great time to cut, paste, color, paint or create all kinds of neat stuff to take home to Mom. Friday was the best day. That was the day for singing. Mr. Rasmuson played the Harpsichord and sang songs. He was an OK singer. He would teach songs like “She’s coming round the mountain” and “My Grandfathers clock was too large for the shelf, so it stood ninety years on the floor.” Mr. Rasmuson was really teaching American History. There would always be an explanation of where the song came from and what was happening in the world.
Just outside and east of the tract of homes was a large Avocado orchard. To the South was a Walnut orchard that was separated right down the middle by train tracks. Just North of the Walnut Orchard and East of the tract homes was a Walnut-packing house. The packinghouse was built right next to the tracks. A railroad spur came off the tracks to the North and went behind the packinghouse to connect to the main tracks just to the South. A large funnel looking box was built on the side of the packinghouse and it hung over the tracks. It used to load the train boxcars full of Walnuts. Steve used to climb inside the big box and sit on top of the huge pile of walnuts and eat them for hours.
Just on the edge of the Walnut orchard was a large stand of old oak trees, birch trees and large bushes. The railroad tracks were only fifty feet away. Inside, under the trees a large clearing with a group of cardboard boxes covered with pieces of plastic gave the illusion of a city. Used as houses, they were tucked under the bushes surrounding the clearing in a circle. In the middle of the clearing a fire pit was surrounded by large logs to sit on. It was a Hobo camp. No one really lived there. They just used the area while passing through town. Steve loved to explore the boxes for stuff left behind. Usually it was old magazines and books. Weathered by rain and repeated packing and un-packing, they were not much to read. Sometimes there were pictures. Pretty nudes mostly; they reminded him of Sue. Sometimes there were men in the camp. Steve didn’t go into the camp when Hobos were there. It was exciting to sneak into nearby bushes and see them up close. They might even be the same men he saw riding in the boxcars when he was little.
Time was changing everything around Steve. The walnut packinghouse used to run open all year. Off-season it was used to move freight in and out of town. Now it was empty except during harvest. There was a station house a few hundred feet North of the packinghouse. It was empty except for some very tired and dirty furniture, complete with an old green top desk and swivel chair.