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Our last day in Galveston was spent exploring my childhood abode and haunts. We lived at 4415 Ave. K; but that old shotgun house has been torn down with only a garbage can standing next to 4413 to mark were it used to stand. But I also remembered my 1979 Galveston pilgrimage to the house with my mother Tenola when we took a picture in front where it then stood.
I remembered the entrance to the graveyard two blocks from that old house, where I would ride my bike to get away from any childhood stress in our house that I felt. I would ride to the cemetery, which was only for whites at the time, and sit on the concrete wall dividing the two sections, and fine my peace.
I also took a selfie in front of my Nanny Dora's house (my grandmother's sister). She was the only one in the family who had a piano, where I could practice my piano lessons. Luckily it was still standing strong.
I had to visit my Grandmother Alberta's church, Westpoint Baptist Church. And I remembered the coins she gave me, tied in a handkerchief each Sunday, for my own personal church offering.
Lastly, Gene and I went to Gaido's Restaurant, one of the oldest Galveston restaurants on Seawall Boulevard at the Gulf of Mexico. It was segregated when I lived there as a child, but back in 1979 I took my mother there, and she said, "I can't believe I'm finally eating in Gaido's."
These childhood sites, filled with past memories guided the one day that I devoted to my Personal Galveston.
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