Our Memories are Real
951 Edgewood Avenue. Childhood fixes memories in a certain way. The first time that I returned to the old home place on Edgewood Avenue, I was rather shocked to see a narrow driveway and small backyard. As I recall, my father separated the space by with chicken pins. In front was a wire clothesline and I enough space to pay. Behind the chickens were huge fig trees which led to a dump owned by a business facing DeKalb Avenue. Later on, after the chickens, the yard was a baseball diamond, imaginary lines, of course, where the big game was played in the neighborhood. My memory registered a large space. I will always remember it that way.Index to Georgia Wills-See Names of your Ancestors
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