On July 12, 1974, Greg Cook and I were married at the Methodist Church in Ney, Ohio. Instead of a traditional honeymoon, we hit the road for a cross-country drive to Sacramento, California—our soon-to-be new home.
Along the way, we made a couple of meaningful detours. We stopped in Whittier and Indio, California, to visit Greg’s grandparents. We spent a few days with his Grandma Cook, then a few more with his Grandma and Grandpa Hoddinott. It was a lovely way to ease into married life, surrounded by family.
Our very first home together was actually Greg’s parents’ motorhome, parked in the side yard of their home in Carmichael, a suburb of Sacramento. I’m not exactly sure how long we lived there—at least a month—but our goal was clear: save enough for a deposit and the first and last month’s rent on an apartment, which totaled around $1,100. If memory serves, the deposit was $500 and rent was $300 a month.
During that time, we worked nights cleaning offices—taking over Gene and Barbara’s janitorial business. Greg’s dad was retired military, and this was extra income for them. For us, it was a stepping stone. We worked from about 10:00 PM until 4:00 AM, cleaning desks/counters, scrubbing floors, and emptying trash cans.
Living in the motorhome wasn’t a hardship. Parked next to the house, we had access to a washer and dryer, a larger kitchen, and the comfort of his parents’ home just steps away. I had only met Greg’s parents a few days before our Ohio wedding, so this time living “next door” gave me a chance to get to know them better. Greg’s mom, Barbara, would come out to visit almost every day for an hour or two. Even after Greg and I divorced in 1994, Barbara remained a friend beyond her role as Megan’s grandmother. Her infectious laugh is something I still miss.
Next up: Flamingo Apartments, Sacramento, CA
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