Houses on wheels have been my curse and my comfort. My family moved from West Virginia to Baltimore so my dad could work at Bethlehem Steel. Money was tight so we lived in a trailer park and owned a series of trailers, 18-ft, 27-ft, and 45-ft. Why do I remember the dimensions? Well, when you live tiny, every additional bit of room is a cause for celebration. And I’m here to tell you:  Bigger IS better. At least in trailers!

Where was HGTV when we needed it???

My top bunk was just a few feet below the ceiling and being lulled to sleep by the patter of rain on the roof is still one of my favorite childhood memories. As crazy as it sounds, 60 years later when I’m out camping in my RV, I look forward to a shower or two just to relive that memory.

As humble as it was, the trailer was home and filled with love. My mom was a wonder. In addition to creating the most amazing pies and cakes in that little kitchen, she kept everything neat and clean. Living in a trailer meant that everything had a place and we learned to put things back where they belonged. But it was pretty cozy at times.

Violin lessons in the living room

Jumping forward a few years, I left trailer living for college. During the 1970s I lived in New York City working as a singer/actor. Later, I was a music teacher and choral director in Maryland, and finally retired as a guidance counselor in Venice, Florida.

During my last years of work, spending weekends in Florida’s state parks with my dogs was a great way to relax, clear my mind, and reminisce. Now that I’ve had a chance to look back, I see I’ve come almost full circle. Although I pushed trailer living to the back of my mind for most of my life, I find I’m still fascinated by these amazing little houses on wheels where, as the saying goes, we spend a fortune to live like we’re homeless.