The last picture I took of 1 Blake rd. 

It was 1986.  Three years befor it was demolished.

The Story of Dishwater the Goat.
The 4H group has been around the Valley for years . Teaching young people about livestock and food. If you become a member, they give your child a goat, or a pig or rabit to raise. Eventually going to the fair and then the meat is harvested and given to the family to eat. Farming, we are an agricultural area after all. Now this idea really appealed to my Father.  He'd been through the depression and knew hunger very well. My mother on the other hand had been raised on a farm and knew all to well about kritters, kids and the eventual out come. She felt it would be to traumatic. They went around it a bit with my Father winning out. And so Dishwater the goat came to live at 1 Blake road. This was about 1952 and I'd not been born yet. My two sisters about 4 and 11 played with Dishwater and dressed him up with little hats. When the time came, only my older sister was privy to his fate. When the meat was delivered, Mother dutifully cooked it, but would not,  eat it.  She left the table.
 My parents never spoke of it again. Later when I came along and some of my young friends received their livestock to raise, my Mother was vigilant. When the 4H'ers came to the door, she rudly sent them away . Now, my Mother was never rude to anyone at that time,  so for years this was a mystery to me. Untill, one day about a year ago I  heard the story of Dishwater the faited goat. Now finally the story told, I understood my Mothers animosity towards 4H. I'm sure you can find kids in the valley today raising 4H animals. We are after all a farming community . Recently I found an old picture in my Mothers things. Two little girls,  a baby and a goat wearing a hat.

Holidays at Ford's...
Ford's Department Store in the early 60s was the place to go at Christmass time. It was Watsonvilles own version of Macy's. My Mother having come here from San Francisco, shopped there almost exclusively. From the bird filled covered parking to the fancy elevator to the little luncheon bar at the entrance. Watsonville at the time had fancy lighted decorations over each street and Ford's department store featured a set of large lighted figures looking like 18 century singers on their roof. People dressed up when they went to shop. Men wore hats and wemon wore dresses and heals. Ford's caried the latest of most everything from wedding dresses to fine china, beds to washing machines. Going there  to shop at Chirstmass was an event for us and many of our Corralitos neighbors. I remember going in after church. All the ladies and Christmas Corsages. The egg salad sandwiches and cherry coke I ate at the lunch counter, while waiting with my sister for mom to finish shopping. The crowds of folks all dressed up with kids and packages in tow. Christmass music and driving home in the darkness.  We loved counting the decorated trees in the windows of our neighbors along  Blake and Alderage roads.

Latter, in the early 80s . Watsonville needed to replace their old Chistmass decorations, but  oppted not to spend the money.

Santa comes to 1 Blake. 
Christmass in the valley was great. From our vantage point at One Blake we could see right across to the hills on the other side. Right out those big picture windows from the old Southern Pacific Depo. The tree went right in front of them. Not many in those days had outside lighting so it was important to place your tree where all the neighbors could see it. Dad liked to get our tree at the Corn Palace on East Lake. Off we'd go in the old Studibaker, our tie ropes ready. We'd return and wait for Dad to put it in the stand. My parents loved all kinds of music. So the old victrola played Bing Crosby , Swan Lake and Burl Eves while we readied the Bubble lights. Frequent trips to Ford's Department Store were in order and Chistmass Corsages were worn in mass, the larger the better. When I was about 4,  my Dad set up a bear trap by our tree, claiming he'd be sure to catch Santa. Christmas morning as the sun poured thru the big windows , I saw that it was sprung with a boot and a bit of red velvet and white beard.  I burst into tears as my Dad fell over laughing. It took awhile for him to convince me that Santa was all right.

Holloween at Corralitos School, early 60s.
Fall in the valley was always cold. A crispness filled the air. Corralitos school often had ice on the lawns. We readied our costumes as Hollowen approached. The School had a  contest every year and lots of candy was handed out. Store costumes had not really come in yet, so most all were home made. My Mother liked to Win this competition and worked fervently on that old peddle Singer my Dad had electified for Her.  The Childern would line up every year on the lawn between the buildings . Classes were cancelled for the day and Mothers ran after their kids with the rest of their costumes. A tail or tall hat or beard. I remember Lincoln  being  very popular. It was quite a competition. We arrived with our Moms and siblings, costumes in tow, at 9 am.  The Parrade before the judges was at 10 am. Prizes and candy handed out at 11 am. Home by noon. We spent the rest of the day carving our pumpkins and planing our attack for trick or treat. I remember Mother really bundling us up under our costumes to brave a cold Corralitos fall night. I know it seems odd now, but girls were required to wear dresses or skirts to school everyday. This was one day at school when we wore pants under our costumes and we were much warmer.  And yes, my Mother did win many times between the three of us.  A fact that She reveled in for years to come.

Gypsy

Fairy 

Ghosts.
One of my first friends that  I made at school was Crikit Prado. When we were very young, say about 8, I visited her house. It was at the corner of Blake and  Hames rd. The house was like ours in a way. It was old and remodeled to fit a growing family. The property went way back and her father had built a playground for the kids there. It was wonderful, complete with steel slides and a see-saw. We played for hours. One day she took me to the back of the property where her grandma had a little house.  She wasn't allowed in there I think. We went in quietly. The little house was very cool and clean. The furniture was  old fashioned and lace curtains blew softly with the breeze thru the open windows. We went to the back  bedroom. On the dresser laid out neatly were a comb, brush and some bobbie pins. Also three small intracatly woven round straw basket boxes with lids. She paused there and picked up the brush. It had soft very gray hair still in it. She said this is my grandma's . She's an Indian. But she died. We stood quietly in the dim room and looked closely at the fine hairs and woven baskets. Then her mom called dinner and we bolted thru the tiny house out into the sunshine, hopeing not to be seen.

In those days my idea of what an Indian was of course Cowboys and Indians. My only 8 year old reference was what I saw on my 1960s tv.  But this was different. It was real. A real person.  And It was spiritual. I felt that. I mean I felt Crikit's love of her Grandmother. It was very special to feel that. It was sweet and it was sad all at once.

Close Neighbors.
The Hedgpeths lived over the little hill that meanders off the corner of Blake and Aldridge roads. Running along the orchard, their driveway ended below their house. They were teachers or Educators as they would say. Ann and Edward were an older couple from the east coast. They had two older sons Eddy and Rolly and also a late baby girl, Ann Marie. She was my older sisters age and they were best friends. I was about 4 or 5 then. Their home was my first experience with real art and antiques. It was filled with it and the smell of French cooking permeated the air. Ann was a college girl and worked out side the home. She bore a resemblance to Julia Child and drove a Volvo. She stopped by our house at One Blake rd. at least once a week and She and my Mother would engage in the local gossip and the politics of the day. I can still hear that noisey old Vovo coming up the driveway.