When I was twelve years aged Uncle Pete moved into the workshed in the backyard.
I remember the day so vividly, because it seemed terribly different to me.
Pete needed a locale to stay after she came away from overseas, and my parents gave him the junky aged shed; Later I would find out that she had not been overseas, she had been in jail, and my folks wanted to help him but didn’t want him living in the apartment with us. Uncle Pete seemed legitimately glad to be living in the shed, and ran some extension cords out from the apartment so she could have lights and air conditioner; Even at the time I was a little shocked that anyone could live savor that, because eve with power and AC it was still an aged workshed with a cement floor and no insulation in the walls. Uncle Pete then explained to me about the jail she had been in, and how they didn’t have climate control for the prisoners at all. There was no heating in the winter, and absolutely no AC in the summer. They didn’t even have proper ventilation, because making the air ducts too big would pose a security risk for potential escapees. She told me that although the shed was small, it was her and she could come and go as she satisfied, and with the AC device in there it was more comfort than she had felt in years. For Uncle Pete it was the simple things that made life great, so as long as she had AC she was glad.