California or Bust...1965-style

I remember the first time I moved to California.  Two weeks after my oldest sister got married - the rest of the Woods clan moved from God's country (aka the frozen tundra) of Hibbing, MN and headed for California - the land of Opportunity, decent weather, and tacos (whatever those were!)

I was very sad to be leaving as I was sure I was going to die without my best friend Kathy Martire living across the street from me.  I was also concerned as I remember someone saying that when God created the earth and picked it up to put it in place - all the nuts rolled into California! 

The year was 1965 and my parents packed up the remaining available 7 kids - and a Yorkie named Muffett - into the family station wagon and pointed it west.  Kids in tow ranged in age from a 17-year-old upcoming high school senior to a 17-month-old cute-as-a bug toddler. 

The drive to the west coast was as fast and no-nonsense as was possible in those days.  Think about it - 9 people and a dog - all nice and cozy in a car in the middle of summer!  Getting there fast was my dad's defense mechanism.  I'm convinced it was the chocolate malt spilled down his back during the very first food stop that set the precedent for speed.

I slept most of the way - sitting up with my head resting... somewhere ...waking up occasionally to inquire about which state we were in.  It was usually "Chaos".  Sleeping my way through the trip was my own version of a self-defense mechanism.

We got to Southern California and spent 5 days with relatives in Whittier.  We were pushing it.  As my mom says - "Relatives staying with you are like fish - they begin to smell after 3 days".

In those few days we found a 3-bedroom house to rent and Mayflower delivered our stuff.  Well - most of it.  They missed an entire bedroom of furniture and had to put it on the next truck out of Hibbing - which was the equivalent to a "slow boat from China."  So now we had 7 kids in 2 bedrooms with 2 fewer beds.  Ahhhh - the good ol' days!

All things considered - the move west went pretty smoothly. This opinion is based on my 11-year-old mentality and not being privvy to the "real world" details.

I know that my dad found a job.  I think it was in Monrovia - about a 30 minute commute.  Compared to Hibbing - it must have been a brutal drive for him to get to work.

Imagine...an hour or more in the car every day without anyone kicking the back of the front seat, without fear of wearing a chocolate malt, no listening to whining and arguing coming from the back seat, getting to listen to his choice of radio stations....  Hey!  I think we were duped!  Subtle dad...but brilliant!