It's Not The El Dorado...

The house that has been our wonderful home for the past 17 years has been revolting against us.  All normal wear and tear, really, but our family has aways been prone to the “when it rains, it pours” approach to challenges.  Of course, a 27 year old water heater was going to go.  Air conditioners don’t last like they used to.  Carpets and furniture need life support.  And so on and so on.

Carpets were removed and beds and couches left the building with plans for flooring and more comfortable seating.  Unfortunately, our perfect storm hit at a time when my income stopped flowing, so all improvement plans were put on hold for better days.  Fair enough.  Floors can wait and we’re comfortable enough on temporary furniture.  We knew the HVAC was struggling but we survived the hottest part of August and September and felt victorious!

And then…then the water heater threw in the towel.  Or, I guess I should say WE threw in the towels to prevent the steady stream of water from getting to the vintage amplifiers in the room on the other side of the wall.  We were lucky!  Well, we were lucky that we caught the breakdown before we left the house (as we were about to do).  We stopped the hemorrhaging and forgot about it for a few hours.

Pulling back into the neighborhood, we remembered there was work to do…and there was school tomorrow for two girls who could really use a shower.  Thankfully, I am my mother’s daughter and those instincts guided me into action.  Large pots of water hit the stove and old fashioned baths saved the evening.  Then, financial juggling commenced and 12 days later, we had hot water once again.

Obviously, none of these life hiccups are all that unusual.  That’s part of home ownership.  That’s the luck of the draw sometimes.  That’s life.  We survived it and, in the grand scheme of things, I’d choose that challenge over many others and, I hope, our children learned something about life by observing the way we handled it.

When I talked to my brother Mike about our latest adventure, he said that when faced with residential breakdowns, he tells himself “It’s not the El Dorado, so I’m doing okay.”  I laughed, because I think of the El Dorado often – usually when dealing with a minor inconvenience and wondering how my mother did it.

I’ve mentioned the El Dorado before, usually as a funny little aside when talking about other adventures.  As an adult looking back at myself as a child, it IS kind of a funny adventure we had.  As an adult looking back as a mother, I am astounded by my own mother.  We were kids and kids are resilient.  How did SHE survive?  More to the point, how did she survive with her sanity and sense of humor intact?

Let me walk you through this.  My mother had lived in the same town all of her life.  This place was home to her parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and half of her siblings.  One of her brothers was in Maryland, preparing to open the first of many restaurants and he thought she needed to come along to help him.  I can’t pretend to know what moved her to pick up everything she knew and head east, but that’s what she did.  What we all did.

First, we needed a place to land, so my oldest brother Tim headed to Baltimore with my uncle to scout landing pads.  Tim found the perfect home for our family - a cool house in a great neighborhood, close to schools and everything a family would hope for.  All that was left was to load up the station wagon and complete the move.  So my mom, her nine children aged 5 (me) to 16, along with two extra teenage boys, said our goodbyes to our hometown loved ones and away we went!  I was little, but I was excited for this adventure and I remember the drive pretty clearly.  I remember plotting with my brothers about what our new life would be like.  I remember finally seeing our new house in our new neighborhood and I remember walking though the knee-high grass in the yard.

That’s all I remember because that’s as far as we got.  After the long drive, with a car load of energetic kids, we were met with the news that we would not be moving in to this new and exciting home.  Again, I was 5, so I don’t recall what happened next.  There was an issue with financial paperwork and we had no place to go.  No home back in the home town.  No home in the new town.  11 kids – including 2 extra brooding teenage boys – now what?

My uncle made some calls and worked out a temporary landing spot for us.  Next door to the restaurant he was opening, was a motel called the El Dorado Motor Lodge.  A closed, completely vacant for a very long time motor lodge with limited plumbing and limited electricity.  But, we’re on an adventure, right?  Besides, this was only a hiccup on the trail, right?  Right!?!?

What I remember is the fun.  We had free range of countless motel rooms to explore!  We were experienced campers so we can do this!  And we’ve got a roof over our heads and actual beds instead of sleeping bags on the ground!  What I remember is my brothers sneaking me in to the movie theater across the highway to see Jaws!  I remember elaborate hide and seek games.  I remember dumpster diving and finding treasures like notepads and pencils.  Fun!

Looking back, what I also remember is that we were there for about 8 weeks.  Our new unavailable home was 25 miles away.  My mother drove us all 25 miles every morning to the elementary, junior high, and high schools.  I was in kindergarten which was only half day.  So after driving us to school, she drove back to try and untangle the paper nightmare that was keeping us homeless.  Then she picked me up at lunchtime.  We’d go to a park to eat a sandwich and use the playground until it was time to retrieve my siblings.  Then back to the El Dorado, where she pulled groceries from the camping coolers that we had, to assemble dinner using an electric skillet, an electric popcorn popper, and an electric coffee pot.  We also had a camp stove, but I don’t remember using that inside.  After dinner, dishes were washed in the bathtub in one room while homework was done, showers were taken and grumbling was done in other rooms.  Buckets of old bath water flushed toilets.  Extension cords ran to powerless rooms for those few with power.

Eight weeks.  Two months.  Eleven kids.  100 miles or more a day.  I never saw her cry.  If she did, she did it out of our line of vision.  Life at the El Dorado Motor Lodge was an adventure.  For me.  I was five.  For my mother, I can only now imagine that it was a hell that most of us can’t fathom.

Things worked out.  We finally got in to our fabulous new house in Baltimore (furnished, in part, by dressers and tables acquired at the motel).  We were in a great neighborhood, surrounded by all the wonders of a bustling city, and we made friends with kids from our block who are still in our lives to this day.  I don’t know the behind-the-scenes details of those El Dorado days, but I believe that my entire family is stronger for having lived it. 

There’s no question that my mother quietly provided that strength.  That she never *showed* us any chinks in the armor allowed us all to carry on with faith that all is right in the world.

So, when my house stages a revolution and I want to scream and cry, I think back to those times and remind myself that It’s Not The El Dorado.  This, too, shall pass.