On our way to the airport on Tuesday morning, we stopped by the house that Beverly grew up in on 847 Ramona Avenue. I have heard a lot of stories - some with a ringer washer - some about quarantines due to illness, others about her sisters and brothers. She remembered her two year old brother who would run laughing after turning up the radio really loud. She remembers the casket after he died. Lots of stories with that house.
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