This post is part of the blogger challenge titled BBBC. Today's topic is:
10. A story you love to tell.
And here I thought yesterday's topic was difficult.
That's kind of what my mind felt like with this topic. Then a thought came to me as I sat in the living room of our home. It's a very short story.
I moved to Alaska in 1982 and arrived mid-August. My brother had given me a phone number to call of some good friends. I called from Delta Junction and heard that my sister-in-law was there and my brother was flying in that evening. Not to welcome me to the Last Frontier but to see his new daughter. And to fly his plane back to their home in southwest Alaska. I was given directions with some aspects of the directions unlike what I was used to having grown up in Southern California. Back then, there were no house numbers and only the major streets seemed to have names. The directions were to go to 5.5 mile Farmers Loop Rd, turn and count houses. The way you knew you were at the right place was the color and what was in the driveway. The house I'm sitting in is the same one where I was welcomed to upon my arrival in Fairbanks.
Not very exciting but it's a story I enjoy telling.
Oh yeah, the next PBC video.
PBC #55
10. A story you love to tell.
And here I thought yesterday's topic was difficult.
 |
| Image from wisegeek.com |
I moved to Alaska in 1982 and arrived mid-August. My brother had given me a phone number to call of some good friends. I called from Delta Junction and heard that my sister-in-law was there and my brother was flying in that evening. Not to welcome me to the Last Frontier but to see his new daughter. And to fly his plane back to their home in southwest Alaska. I was given directions with some aspects of the directions unlike what I was used to having grown up in Southern California. Back then, there were no house numbers and only the major streets seemed to have names. The directions were to go to 5.5 mile Farmers Loop Rd, turn and count houses. The way you knew you were at the right place was the color and what was in the driveway. The house I'm sitting in is the same one where I was welcomed to upon my arrival in Fairbanks.
Not very exciting but it's a story I enjoy telling.
Oh yeah, the next PBC video.
PBC #55
so, great story...but was the neighbor you have along Farmers Loop Road with all the junk piled up front beginning his collection then or was it already in place?
ReplyDeleteI think it started but nowhere near what it is today.
DeleteI love the idea of living in a place where you don't need house numbers. In the city it is down to apartment numbers...
ReplyDeleteThe house numbers and street names came shortly after this time. I remember that the residents had to sort of agree. The numbers were assigned and I remember some being annoyed by that as well. Almost as annoying as when the Post Office demanded that everyone put up a mail box by their driveway. They used to be clustered at the bottom of the hill.
DeleteI think some places in Alaska still get mail by their SR (Star Route) number.
I seem to remember reading that Tokyo is (or was?) like that, without a system of street names and numbers to help you find where you're going. Adds an element of serendipity and adventure, although, living in Alaska seems already adventurous enough.
ReplyDeleteThe address on the Cozy sidecar for the manufacturer is "Hansra Lane, Near Police Station, Byculla, Mumbai. I thought that was very different from what I am used to...
DeleteFunny how life turns out sometimes. We built a house in WV on a piece of property with no address. The "road" had a name, but it was more like a grassy lane. We sold the house in 2015. I think it was assigned an address in 2014 or 2013 as part of the county's (or state's?) 911 addressing location efforts.
ReplyDeleteIt took us awhile to fine-tune the driving directions we'd give people. For example, telling someone to turn "at the top of the hill" isn't helpful if they don't know they've reached the top until they start going down the other side of said hill. By then, of course, they'd missed the turn.