|
|
||
|
|
|
|
|
..
"Sometimes at night, I see their faces, I feel the traces they left on my soul. These are the memories that made me a wealthy soul." Bob Seger - Travelin’ Man "Granddad, what’s your name?" asked my seven-year-old
grandson, as we thumbed through a family photo album. In truth, I didn’t know how to answer the question. How does one define oneself? Are we physical bodies, spiritual beings, neither or both? Within what reality do we exist? Do we even exist? What is my real name? "You know buddy, you can just always call me Granddad." My Selig ancestors set sail from Germany long ago to settle within the Berks County region of southeastern Pennsylvania. Many on this side of my family planted crops or worked in textile mills. My Conklin ancestors arrived from Scotland, Ireland and England to pioneer the Warren County area of northwestern Pennsylvania. Most on this side of my family plowed fields or cut lumber. The two families merged when my father Ronald Selig met my mother Marie Evelyn Conklin during the spring of 1958 in Buffalo, New York. My father was fresh out of the Marine Corps returning to the city where he grew up. My mother worked various jobs trying to avoid returning to the hard farm life of her childhood in Pennsylvania. The young couple dated, became engaged and then married on September 5, 1959. By the end of 1959, my parents realized they’d be expanding into a family. I entered the world as Steven Michael Selig six months later on June 11, 1960. We lived within a pale green duplex that sat between two yards of grass, a tall oak shaded the front and a white picket fence lined the back. Our address was 185 Fowler Street in Kenmore, a northern suburb of Buffalo. Our household grew as my two sisters arrived, Connie Sue Selig on June 8, 1962 and Linda Marie Selig on August 19, 1964. My family blended into middle class America, with my father working at the local Western Electric cable plant and my mother staying home to raise her children. Buffalo sits on the western edge of New York as a collection of drab brick buildings overshadowed by nearby Niagara Falls. The once proud "Queen City" of American industry had seen better days and now sat slowly rusting away. Snowstorms roaring in off Lake Erie pound the city with over one hundred inches of snow every winter. My memory begins deep within those winters. Read more in the book. . .
2 – Saguaros My parents, my grandfather Carl Selig and I drove out west to visit Arizona during the summer of 1967. My father enjoyed the rugged mountains and sheer canyons of the southwest and longed to move away from Buffalo’s winters. I smiled as I felt my first blast of desert heat and waved back to a friendly saguaro cactus as we pulled into the Arizona Palms Motel in Phoenix. Fortunately like the bitter cold of Buffalo, the blistering heat of Arizona didn’t faze seven year olds. We ate most of our meals at the nearby Bill Johnson’s Big Apple Restaurant, where sawdust covered the floor and waiters in cowboy hats wore guns on their hips. My grandfather taught me to swim in the motel pool while my parents saw the sights. Both my father and grandfather worked at the Western Electric cable plant in Buffalo. My father had heard rumors the company might build a plant in the Phoenix area. A year later those rumors came true and my parents decided to move to Arizona. Dad drove his 1964 Ford to Phoenix in the summer of 1968 to secure a job at the new plant and buy a home for our family. Mom followed with us kids several weeks later after a stay with her sister in Reno, Nevada. I had just turned eight and first flew in an airplane on our cross-country flight to Reno. My parents shelled out $12,000 dollars for a new John F. Long home on Phoenix’s west side at 8211 W. Cherry Lynn. We let the grass grow in the backyard and desert landscaped the front in gravel and cactus. My mother joined my father working at the cable plant as my sisters and I settled into Arizona’s easygoing lifestyle. I began third grade at Starlight Park Elementary School in the fall of 1968. I liked my new school, made friends and earned good grades. During recess I roamed the playground, hit a tetherball or shot marbles. We stood to pledge allegiance to the flag every morning and practiced both fire and air raid drills. Mrs. Gibson’s third grade words sill echo in my mind, "There’s the bomb siren children. Everyone under their desk, be quiet and wait for the all clear siren. That’s it…no talking. Steven, don’t you make me come back there!" The start of the school year brought the bane of all grade schools – shots. Every year we lined up outside the nurse’s office for one big cryfest. They gave shots (medical vaccinations) with needles – big needles. Everyone started to cry just hearing those in front get stabbed. Another hazard of school during the 1960’s was swats. Teachers reserved the right to paddle misbehaving students and displayed their "boards of education" prominently within their classrooms. Most of these wooden paddles featured tightly taped handles for a better grip, numerous drilled holes for increased velocity and pompous pet names such as "Teacher’s Tickler." Thankfully, I avoided (although just barely) that painful and humiliating experience. I loved board games. I started playing Monopoly, Life and Easy Money then advanced to strategy games such as Clue, Stratego and Risk. I played with various toys including Hot Wheels, Lincoln Logs and Legos. But without a doubt my favorite toy was G.I. Joe, the original action figure. G.I. Joe and I stormed beachheads, climbed Mt. Everest and explored distant galaxies together. I could always count on G.I. Joe, he wasn’t just a toy - he was a friend. Read more in the book. . .
4 – Fast Times I pondered my options during the summer of 1978 as my friends moved on to full-time jobs, college or military service. I applied at the cable plant where my parents worked, but didn’t receive any response. I thought hard about a military career like my friends Mike (U.S. Army) and Marc (U.S. Air Force), but always managed to avoid the recruiting office. Unemployed and still living with my parents, I had no clear objective in life. After enrolling at Glendale Community College for the fall semester, I received a call from Western Electric offering me a job. The pay and benefits were great, so on October 30, 1978 I began working for "the phone company." I finished the fall semester with good grades, but decided to take a break from school to work more overtime on my new job. Unfortunately this break lasted many years and locked me into my current profession. My job allowed me to save more money and, in early 1979, I bought my first car, a red 1978 Z-28 Camero with a 350 ci. engine and four on the floor. Having secured a hot ride, my second large purchase was an absolute necessity of the 1979 dating game – a king-sized water bed. Read more in the book. . .
5 – Wild Thing "I’ve got seven women on my mind, four that wanna own me, two that wanna stone me, one says she’s a friend of mine." The Eagles – Take it Easy . . . My grandmother Grace L. (Bowles) Conklin, died in April of 1989. Although she had grandchildren scattered around the country, we always enjoyed a special connection. I started the summer of 1989 on strike again. I planned ahead this time and spent several weeks hiking throughout the San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado. I continued to travel internationally and, through travel, lived out my dreams. As women rotated through my life, I grew tired of the dating game and began searching for someone special. I met Stephanie Lynn (Summers) Shanks in September of 1992. She already had two children, Cassidy and Chelsea and enjoyed traveling. During the following summer of 1993, Steph and I traveled to Europe together and fell in love. After returning, we decided to live together and leased a townhouse at 18207 N. 45th Avenue within the Bel Air community of north Phoenix. . . . Read more in the book. . .
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
||||
