The Enchanted Drive…
in Spanish.
That was the
meaning of the name of the street where our family home was located at 1407 El
Encanto Drive, Brea, California, 90621.
I remember saving up to buy that house.
I was a little girl in Downey, California – the oldest of six
children. Our home in Downey was three
bedrooms and two bathrooms. That meant
that my sister and I shared a bedroom, and my four brothers shared a bedroom. They were squished. There was a bunk bed on one wall and across
from that a twin bed and a crib. Each
boy had one drawer in the dresser and one-fourth of the closet for all their
clothes and toys. We didn’t have a lot
of clothes and toys, so the closet wasn’t at capacity – in any of our
bedrooms.
The time had come
to buy a different house. My dad was a
professor at Cerritos College in Norwalk, California and my mother was a
full-time mom, so money was scarce. My
folks knew that we would have to go out – way out – to the hinterlands to find
a home that would be large enough for the family and easy enough on the
budget. Dad had a twin sister who lived
in Orange County, so that was where the house hunt was centered.
Mom made a 3-foot
tall thermometer out of poster board and ribbon, and put it on the bulletin
board in the family room/dining room of our Downey home. We would all pitch in until we could earn
enough money for the down payment on a new house. Dad was in charge of the earnings, and he was
great at including us in the adventure.
He would give us “money jobs” around the house and then we could decide if
we wanted to donate our money to our new house or keep it to buy candy. I was all in on the new house concept. Sounded like heaven to me.
The ribbon on the
thermometer grew taller and taller until finally, we had enough for a down
payment. I remember the first time I
ever saw the house on El Encanto, or The Enchanted Drive. It was a sprawling ranch house with four
bedrooms and three bathrooms. That meant
a master suite for Mom and Dad, two boys in one bedroom, two boys in another bedroom,
and my sister and I in the most beautiful bedroom of all. Even better, there was a boys’ bathroom and a
girls’ bathroom! Finally!!
I loved the house,
but hated the entry hall. It was a
rough, pebbly surface just like the front porch. It was uncomfortable for bare feet, which I
think was the reason my mother kept it all those years. She preferred that we kept our shoes on. As you entered the red double doors at the
front of the house into that entry all, you could step down into the formal
living room. You could also see the
patio and the spacious back yard.
The living room was the only room in the house that was professionally
decorated, and it was a beautiful, Mediterranean approach with various greens
and deep reds and browns. The piano was in
that room, so our family gathered there frequently to play, sing, listen, chat
and learn.
Across from the
living room, still off the entry hall was the Master Suite. It was huge.
My folks bought a king size bed and night stands, as well as a dresser
and a highboy, and there was still room to play. Their bathroom had a large vanity with a huge
mirror, and a separate shower and toilet area.
The suite was their sanctuary.
But, since cleaning it was frequently my job, I knew where they kept
everything, including where Dad kept those big, fluffy, orange candy
peanuts. They were never safe. I still get a craving for them sometimes…
Dad’s office was
also across from the living room, and adjacent to the Master Suite. He built in a wall of bookcases that was
filled with literary treasures as well as random educational materials. He built a credenza on the opposite wall, and
then his huge desk smack in the middle of what other people used as a dining
room. The desk was enormous. Cleaning it was a chore. I had to constantly move around it because I
couldn’t stand on one side and reach the other side. Dad also installed a secretary’s desk on the wall
in front of his desk. My sister or my mom
acted as his secretary, as they were both very detail oriented which he
appreciated. I was, and still am, more
like him – a “big picture” person. He
and I would sit side by side at his desk and dream about vacations and
businesses. He would ask me about school
and life and I would ask him about life and school. I loved being in his space.
At the end of the entry
hall, and on the other side of Dad’s office was the kitchen, dining area and
family room – an open concept arrangement that works to this day. That area was the center of our lives. Mom made sure that dinner was on the table at
5:30 every night, no matter what. Dinner
was frequently meat and potatoes or a casserole, with an iceberg lettuce salad,
tomatoes, green peas, corn or green beans.
There was always homemade bread and jam.
Mom was a good cook with an eye on the budget. My sister and I were her assistants, and
mostly tore lettuce and set the table.
Dinner time with the eight of us was my favorite time of the day. Dad loved to talk about concepts and
realities, and Mom loved to fact-find and share. The conversations were stimulating and
invigorating. I loved that. Then, eventually
the puns would start, and all the boys would try to top each other with the
cleverest pun. To this day, I don’t
appreciate that kind of humor. I wearied
of it as a child. When it started, I began clearing the table. Eventually, after the last terrible pun, Dad
would jump up and get everyone into the kitchen for a whirlwind cleaning job –
fast and thorough. Then he would go
teach his night class and we’d tackle our homework at the kitchen table. Sometimes I was still at it when he came home
from class at 10:00 pm. He’d sit by me
at the table and we’d figure out my geometry dilemmas… and other of life’s
nefarious theories and theorems.
That home is home
to me. It was an enchanted time, when
all of my siblings were together and we were each and all uncovering the
mysteries and ministries that molded our lives.
We watched a man step on the moon on the TV in the family room, we baked
cakes for birthdays and bashes in the kitchen, we argued and reasoned around
the table, we cooked and cleaned, we sang, and yelled, and talked and whispered
of dreams and demands and decisions. The
El Encanto house helped us center our lives on love that binds us even now.
