Sunday is here

I don't remember what time of the year we moved to Florida but I remember the disappointed look on my Mother's face when my Dad showed us where we were going to live and what he was going to do. My Dad bought a small cement block building with a beer joint in it. Cob webs were everywhere. The building was divided in the middle by a wall. In the back part was a restaurant type kitchen with a grille and the other part of the back room was for storing beer cases. The front part is where the bar was. The bar went across the wall and had many bar stools around. There were three or four tables with chairs and in the middle of the floor was a pot bellied stove with a tea kettle on it. I guess that was used for heat when it got cold in the winter. There were no windows in it. It has chicken coop windows covering on the pull up windows. Chicken coop windows you couldn't see through. They had a wire cage type weaving in the middle and it was covered by a thin type paper that would let the light in. You would have to pull up the window by a cord and secure the cord. The bathroom was outside and there was a men's and women's toilet and sink. Leading to the bathrooms was a red cement patio.

There were 4 motel units on the side standing by themselves. In the far back part of the property facing the next street was a house. There really wasn't a street back there. It was mostly sand and seldom did a car go down it as it would get stuck in the sand.

The house had a small kitchen, a living room, bath room, and three bedrooms. I don't believe the house was that old. My Dad had great ideas for that house but I hated it from the time we moved down there and I believe my Mom did too. Dad thought it was great and they started cleaning and remodeling the place right away. Since my Dad was originally a carpenter when he was very young, he knew how to do all the building and replacing. He was a "Jack of all trades" meaning he could do just about anything.

I remember the first night sleeping there. We had only pillows and our jackets and it was a little cold. We had beat the truck down there that was carrying our few items that we brought there. I remember being cold that night. Our radio, bedding and clothing came the next day. By then, since we were the new owners, my dad was tending bar. Beer is all that was sold except for cigarettes and snacks, like chips and pickled pigs feet, (Yuck). There would be a large jar of them sitting on the counter. My parents didn't keep the pig's feet after the jar was emptied. Mom and Dad started cleaning and fixing up the place and they named it "Azalea Courts".