Lost

"I was never lost, though I was once misplaced for three days." Daniel Boone.

When I was three, almost four years old my family moved from Prescott, Arizona to Montrose, Colorado. My dad, who had previously been a school teacher had a job working in a hardware store owned by his sister and her husband. We moved in November of 1945 right after the end of WWII. My mom was pregnant at the time and on February 2, 1946 my sister Mary Martha was born. I remember being out in the apple orchard at our new house making snowmen when they come home from the hospital.

I had never been lost that I recalled. Of Prescott, I had very few memories. I look at a picture of the old house and know certain things but I am not sure they are memories or just things I was told in latter years by people who did remember. We had a house on a hill with a garage underneath and stone stairs going up about 12 feet to a porch and inside. I seem to recall snow about 2 feet deep and cactus and an old well but not much else. I seems I was allowed some freedom to wander but never strayed too far from home.

Montrose was different. My brother Tom and I had more freedom. We had a large yard (a whole 1/3 of the block between the street and the alley). It was level and there was a sidewalk out in front. We had an orchard with many apple trees, lots of garden space, a playhouse, a coal-house, a chicken coop, and a garage. The house was two bedrooms, a long living room and dining room, a kitchen (with a cast iron wood stove and a pantry), a bathroom, and finally a large backporch/wash room.

Like I said, I had never been lost. Tom was a year and a bit older than I. I must have just turned four (4) when this happened. If I think back about it I sometimes wonder if he didn’t want to get rid of me. We were going to play follow the leader and Tom was the leader. We ran through some yards, gates, etc. and soon I had lost Tom (Tom was lost). I was OK "Tom was lost." I headed for home, but I didn’t know where I was. "I was misplaced." So I started to walk. We lived on South 4th Street. That meant there was 3rd St., 2nd St., 1st St., and then Main Street as one went north. Those streets were things I learned later as I grew up. I ended up on Main Street. A woman came out of her house and asked me if I was lost. I said "No" and started to cry. She whisked me into the house and called the police. I got milk and cookies and she worked my name out of me.

Somehow the police were there and I got to ride in the back of the police car; something I really wouldn’t want to do today. But it was 1946 and cars were different then. During the war they didn’t make cars. So the newest cars were made in 1940. My dad had a 1936 Ford sedan and I liked to stand up on the floor in the back seat and look over the front seat right behind the driver. A little one could see so much that way. So I’m standing in the back seat of the Police car looking forward and we go those four blocks back home (1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Street). When we pull up in front of the house there is Tom sitting on the hood of the 36 Ford wondering why I’m in the police car. I see Tom and I know he is not lost anymore and I am so happy I start to cry.