Where Mitchell Moves, #1

I was going to title (or entitle) this post, "Why Mitchell Moves," but that would initiate a major psychiatric evaluation and treatise. I move because I'm always running away from something. I move because I have no stability. I move because I don't like putting down roots. I move because I like adventure. I move because I am easily bored. I move because I thrive on change. I move because 'the grass is always greener.' On and on...

Basically, I have moved a lot in my life. This is the first in the series on "where" and not "why." Eventually, you should have a clear understanding, at least, of why my blog is called "Mitchell is Moving" (if not in fact why Mitchell moves).

Here's where it began (click any image for a closer look):

UNITY HOSPITAL, ST. JOHN'S PLACE, BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.
(THE YEAR BEFORE I WAS BORN.) 
FROM  GOOGLE MAPS.  THE NEIGHBORHOOD HAS BECOME TRENDY,
SO IT PROBABLY LOOKS VERY DIFFERENT NOW.

I was born in 1954 at Unity Hospital in Brooklyn, New York. My parents and sister were already living in the neighborhood of East New York, on Van Siclen Avenue. We had the upstairs apartment in a 2-family row house owned by my uncle's mother. My aunt (father's sister) and uncle lived downstairs with my two cousins. One more child followed in each family, but not until after we left Brooklyn when I was around 1-1/2.

MY PARENTS AND SISTER DALE (PRE-ME).
OUR NEIGHBOR, COUSIN REESA (LEFT), WITH DALE.

Built in 1901, the house was already 50 years old when my parents first moved in. It had the original back porch with darkly aged and rotting wood. The porch creaked and shook whenever we were out there.

MY MATERNAL GRANDMOTHER HOLDING DALE, WITH THREE OF MY COUSINS.
THAT'S AN AWFUL LOT OF PEOPLE TO BE ON THAT PORCH AT ONCE.
MY FATHER AND DALE ON THE PORCH.
(STAYING CLOSE TO THE WALL.)
THAT'S ME IN THE KITCHEN.
(THE DOWAGER DUCHESS LIKES RED.)
THE PATTERN MAY HAVE BEEN A BIT MUCH FOR DALE.

My Mother The Dowager Duchess had already developed her fashionable and arty aesthetic. Very trendy and custom-made furniture. Fabrics in combinations I would now include in my "what patterns you should not combine" posts. But, fashion is fashion.

HERE I AM MODELING THE DRAPES, AND THE CLUB CHAIR IN ITS SUMMER SLIP COVER. 

The sofa was 9 feet long (2.75 meters). In 1964, when we moved from a house in the suburbs to a high-rise apartment in Brooklyn, the sofa didn't fit in the elevator. The movers had to carry it up 16 flights of stairs. The Dowager Duchess gave them some iced tea, I think, and $5. (Maybe it was $10 and beer.)

THE NUBBY 9-FOOT SOFA AND I.
THAT'S NOT A DOLL; IT'S AN ACTION FIGURE! YEAH, THAT'S IT! BABY G.I. JOE.
DALE AND MORE SUMMER SLIP COVERS...
ON THE 9-FOOT SOFA AND THE WING CHAIR.
DALE IN THE TUB. (THERE'S ALSO A SHOT OF ME,
BUT IT WOULD NOW BE CONSIDERED KIDDY PORN.)
A CLOSE-UP OF THE HOMOEROTIC BATHROOM WALLPAPER.
ALREADY UP WHEN MY PARENTS MOVED IN.
(CHECK OUT THE BUNS ON NEPTUNE!)


An appropriate musical selection from 1954
(although I ain't a-getting ready to meet the saints)...