Its Raining its Pouring

Quite a contrast to the sunny skies and warm wind in Puerto Vallarta or Mazatalan. But here we are in Northern California experiencing what we call winter.

I can only imagine our first winter in California. Dad had a new job in South San Francisco. It was the industrial city, quite different than the industrial office city that it is now. It had a major Steel mill operation that made large culverts to take water and rivers under roads and highways. It still had the slaughter houses where the West Coast rail head ended for the hogs of Armour and Hormel. Our nation's business was done by rail freight then.

It was a very wet winter. We lived in a flea bit cement floored house up against the mountain that hold the signature letters of South San Francisco. Mom got pneumonia that first year and had to be hospitalized. The rain came down. A car lost control across the street from us and careened into a barbed wire fence and then into the power pole. The line came crashing down upon the street and power was lost to the residence up and down the street.

I attended kindergarten at Marten school, at the foot of the hill. The district was not ready for our "boomer" generation and we were significantly under housed. I attended "split" sessions of school until I was in the third grade. All grades in that era were split into two halves of a school day. There were no standards that needed to be met in those days. Consequentially I didn't learn to read or write until much later than my younger sisters.. or so the story goes.

That first year it rained and rained. The storm drains filled up. Dad had some chest waders from fishing exploits. He donned them with great admonishments from mom who was always afraid of water and set about clearing the garbage and barriers that clogged the surface street and would not allow the water to get into the drains. At times he was up above his thighs pulling out tree limbs that formed a matrix barrier to the free flow of water. It looked like great fun.

I has content with splashing through the puddles with big rubber rain boots and singing the chant that goes with rain and kids.

Its raining
Its pouring
the old man is snoring
went to bed and bumped his head and
couldn't get up in the morning!

Rain is liquid gold in California.. when it pours it really pours.

:) Pat