#2 - When and where were you born?

Columbia, Missouri is an average-sized city near the center of the state.  On I-70 running east and west, whether it's farther to St. Louis or to Kansas City depends on which Columbia exit you use as your starting point.  Highway 63 runs north and south, and the street our family home was built on is just off the Old Highway 63.   In 1959, Columbia's population was about 36,000.  Home to the state university, a community college, and Stephens College, an all-girls school, the city also boasted the County Hospital, a Veteran's Hospital, a Cancer Hospital, and the University of Missouri's Medical School.  It was a unique place to grow up.

LDS chapel on Old Highway 63 South

In the late 1950's my dad helped select land on which to build a new church building.  In the process, he also found land on which to build a home for his family of eight.  The house at 2000 Valley View Drive was built in 1958, and I was born May 21, 1959, delivered at the Boone County Hospital, about a mile from our home.

Valley View Drive

Our house was at the bottom of a cul-de-sac that was half-way down the hill into the valley around the Hinkson Creek where it ran below the steep rocks near the veterinary school of the University of Missiouri-Columbia.  The land had been pastureland owned by Austin H. Shepard, a dairy farmer.  The land purchased for the church was at the top of the hill.  Behind the church grew up a development called Eagle Park.  A new elementary school was built in that neighborhood and I was among the first fourth-grade class to attend Shepard Boulevard Elementary School in 1968. 
 

Valley View Road, newly paved

Our little street, and the slightly smaller North Valley View Drive that branched off of it, wasn't fully paved until the summer of 1969 or so.  Before then, there was a little island in the center of the circle at the bottom of the cul-de-sac, where grass and clover and weeds grew all summer long. Eventually, the island became more of a puddle than anything else. The end of our driveway was gravel, and there were no gutters or curbs on the street.The summer that they finally black-topped Valley View Drive and North Valley View was a mix of magic and mess. Cars were parked at the top of the hill and heavy construction equipment sat parked in front of the homes for weeks.  Watching the crews work was serious entertainment. Once the work was done, the island was gone and the street surface was smooth and easy for bicycle riding. The new gutters and storm drains were great fun to play in when the heavy summer rains fell.

The city changed the name of the street at that time, too, which I found most unsettling.  Apparently there is another Valley View Drive in Columbia over on the other side of town.  Our street was renamed Valley View Road, which I found highly offensive.  Surprisingly, no amount of eleven year-old civil disobedience could prevail, such as refusing to call it by its new name when speaking, continuing to use "Drive" on the return address of all my mail (as much mail as an eleven year-old has), and a couple of indignant letters I wrote and never sent to the city (because I never knew who in "the city" to address them to). It was hard, but I'm not bitter.

I loved our house.  Dad did the finishing work on the house himself, and there are some fun stories my older siblings can tell about adventures in living in a half-completed home for a few years.  As the youngest, none of those stories belong in my memory; by the time I recall, the house was finished. Our home was a simple ranch with a single-car garage and a breezeway attaching the garage to the house. There was a full basement, with the rooms below mirroring those above.  Three bedrooms sat on top of three bedrooms, and the two bathrooms were stacked likewise. The kitchen sat on top of the laundry room, and the living/dining area lay over the family room in the basement.  There was a half-bath off the master bedroom, and under the front porch was a sort of "cold storage" room. Dad used the sixth bedroom, off the storage room, as a workshop for a while, but it later served as a home office, and even a bedroom when needed.  With seven children, the bedrooms were put to good use. There was nothing fancy about the floor plan, but we did have two large picture windows -- one on the front (east) side of the house and one on the back (west) side. The views from those windows were better than television, particularly the sunsets out the west side window.  Besides those glorious Missouri sunsets, I remember watching some dramatic lightening storms over the valley.  I still love a good thunder and lightening storm (as long as there are no tornado warnings!)

Missouri sunset over the valley behind the house

My sisters and I shared a bedroom until I was about six or so, as well sharing a double bed.  It was actually kind of nice sleeping with them. We would giggle and tell stories, and tickle each others' backs.  Sometimes we'd lay across the bed horizontally to get a little extra sleeping room out of the mattress. Our bedroom was close to the bathroom, but in the dark of night it was nice to have someone to wake up and take with you to the bathroom so you didn't have to walk the short, dark hallway alone. Peggy was the brave one. 

The three of us would rearrange the furniture in our room all the time.  I think mom let us do it just so that we'd have to do a proper cleaning.  To this day I love to rearrange furniture, and I don't think my house is truly clean unless I've vacuumed underneath all of the furniture and cleaned in the corners. On Saturday mornings, mom would often  come and climb in bed with us for a few minutes while we talked over our plans for the day.

I remember the milk-man making deliveries and leaving the milk in the breezeway.  That's where we stored our bicycles.  It's also where dad would leave the boxes filled with tomatoes he brought home from the university farm.  Those tomatoes would sit out there, warm and wonderful, and we would eat them like apples during the summer months.

Flower beds in front of house

Mom planted geraniums and petunias or marigolds in the flower beds in front of the house.  Dad grew a variety of iris along the edge of the yard. A Russian Olive tree was planted alongside the driveway, and I loved to climb that little tree and bury my face in its sweet-smelling blossoms.  It didn't survive, whether by weather or abuse-by-children, it's hard to say...

Iris planted by dad for mom

Daffodils grew along the south side of the house, and there was a swing set on the north side of the house. In a lower area at the corner of the backyard there was an outdoor fireplace. The boys built a playhouse/ fort there, and I remember playing in it before it was torn down.  We would build fires in that fireplace sometimes, but the fires I really remember were the ones down below the hill. 

House from below the hill

 

Tubing hill

Each house on our street had two acres that stretched out behind the homes.  Our land spread down the hill.  When the house was built, the large boulders that were removed during the construction were dumped over the hill into the woods.  We climbed and played on those rocks, despite repeated warnings about danger and snakes and other such things.  Greg cleared a path about eight feet wide for inner-tubing in the snow.  Dad cleared a walking path from the north side of the house down to the land below.  Down there, he and mom planted peach trees, a mulberry tree, and strawberry patches.  Dad also planted pine trees that he let grow up so we could harvest them for Christmas trees. 

Trail from house to the valley below

He planted a rose hedge around the edge of the property.  I remember rosebud trees and black walnut trees, among others. Dad designated a spot for burning brush, and every summer we would have a few bonfires down below the hill.  Sometimes mom would prepare a full meal and we would haul it all down the path.  Other times we would just roast some marshmallows over the fire.  

One year, dad cut down a big tree, leaving the stump about 2-3 feet high.  He then attached a sturdy piece of plywood to the stump to create a table so that we had a place to spread out our picnic dinners.  I loved those cook-outs, until it was time to climb the hill back to the house.  I remember riding on dad's shoulders and, later when I was too big to ride, trudging alongside him as he chanted, "Chug, chug, chug-a-lug" all the way up the hill to amuse and distract a tired and whiny youngest child.

Hinkson Creek trail on the other side of the creek

Behind our property was another acre or so of land between our property and the Hinkson Creek that remained part of the Shepard estate.  Our neighbor, Homer Dale, had a large riding mower that he used to mow that land sometimes.  Other times he would just mow a pathway to the creek so that he could walk to the university.  Dad would also walk those paths, crossing the creek on the large sewage pipe that spanned the water.  Later, Dr. Dale would build a movable bridge to cross where the water was low. Greg built a baseball backstop on that level field and we would play softball down there sometimes in the summer.  When the creek would flood, the ball field area would become a lake, but the water rarely reached as far as the rose hedge.

Those woods and fields and creek were a big part of my childhood.  It's where we walked and played, built tree-bark forts, caught minnows, waded, fished, climbed trees, rode horses, inner-tubed in the snow, ice skated, wandered, and imagined. Anything seemed possible, and the world felt small and safe.

Movable bridge - one end was pivot-anchored so that rising waters wash it aside, not away