Following the wall, I came around a corner and saw the dim light of my father's flashlight up ahead. It was dangerous to hurry because I didn't know what was underfoot. Soon my Father's steps became louder as he climbed a staircase. The railing was wobbly but afforded direction.

As my eyes adjusted to the dark I could see my Father ahead. Mother was behind me, offering encouragement. At the top of the stairs, Father opened a door to an outside screened porch. It was cold, no colder than inside, but a bitter wind was blowing.

We had arrived at our new shelter, the second-floor outside porch of an abandoned house. We were safe from rodents there, but there was no electricity, heat or running water.

It was 1933, the height of the Great Depression. Father had been a successful builder, who had lost everything. We moved from house to house as each was repossessed, until there was no place to go.

Out last house, and all the contents, were auctioned off, including my toys, table and chairs, dolls, swing set and playhouse. We walked away from that house with just the clothes we were wearing, and the pink piggy bank I had hidden under my coat.

For the next six months we lived in a downtown park. Mother and I spent our days in a nearby church, in stores, or if Father had earned some money, at the movies.

Fall arrived. No longer did the tarp we put over us at night afford any comfort. The weather had turned cold and it began to snow.

A banker friend of my Father's offered us shelter in an abandoned house that had been repossessed years before.

The winter months on the porch were hard, but we had some blankets, and Mother was able to cook on a Sterno stove, so we had hot food.

Out bathroom was a bucket behind a blanket hung in a corner of the porch. Behind a blanket in the opposite corner was a water pail, soap, and a towel on a hook where we washed. Water was precious because it had to be carried up two flights of stairs from the basement laundry sink.

During the day, Father looked for work, at night he worked on the furnace. When we had heat, we moved into the house. He finally got a job at the Telephone Company, maintaining the switchboards. We had money for food, electricity and materials to make repairs.

Eventually Dad built a very nice apartment, including a beautiful bathroom. The first Christmas in that old house was magical. Mother had stayed up late baking and trimming the tree Father had been hiding in the garage. When I awoke Christmas morning and saw the beautiful tree and all the goodies, I knew we were finally home.