Hope this site can help. Here is a link that might be useful: Time capsule link

My husband's mother had grown children....maybe even a grandchild or two, when she married his father, who had grandchildren...probably even great grandchildren, and after they got married, they had six children in six years. She was 38 when he was born....four more after him, and his dad was 68, and 72 when his last was born. The baby had spina bifida and died shortly after birth, and his mother died from breast cancer a couple of years later. I was almost 34....had no trouble getting pregnant and no morning sickness or complications during pregnancy and only gained 25 lb. Had a c section and was in the hospital for five days, and lost all but 7 when I got out. My mother, who was 42, also said she never had any nausea or other problems. My mother was 42 but probably looked older. She was thin and had premature gray hair. After I was born, in a Catholic hospital, by the way, she didn't see me for several hours. One of the sisters came into her room, which was a room with 4 beds, and said, "Have any of you had a baby and not seen it?" My mother said, "I haven't seen mine." The sister said, "Hmph!! No old woman like you has had a baby!" My mother said, "Well, I guess I ought to know if I had a baby or not!" I am quite sure my father was there, and he was a very over bearing type of person, and I can just imagine smoke coming out of his ears, because shortly, the mother superior came running into the room....my mother said her rosary or whatever she had hanging on her outfit (sorry, not Catholic...I don't know) "just a'jangling". She said, "Yes that is Mrs. Stout's baby.....give it to her right now!!"

What an interesting question! My answer? about 1300 miles. Lars' and Jmms' comments are resonating -- thank goodness in the US we can pretty much live where we wish and do as we wish, because in other times and circumstances, that was not possible. My Mom/Grandma/Family were sent to an internment camp -- that was pretty far from where they had chosen to live and where my Mom was born. I don't have "grandma's china" or anything else -- if she had any in the first place, it was not useful enough to be dragged to a camp. They did choose to return to their home after the government allowed it (which was quite a bit after the war) and their home had been completely looted, so it was a start over from scratch. During the war, my Mom was sent even further away (2500 miles) for an opportunity to get out of the camp and get a high school/trade education...with no idea of if/when she'd be allowed back, or what would really happen to her (she was about 16 then). Sometimes circumstances push people to make tough choices. My Dad left his country of birth for better opportunities, and did the best he could; we moved a fair amount when I was a kid to pursue better opportunities for our family.

No. Born in a small town in Wisconsin and knew since childhood that it wasn't for me. Gradually moved to larger and larger cities, including New Orleans and Atlanta. Visited New York City and IMMEDIATELY felt at home. I remember thinking, "Other people get to live there. Why not me?" Quit my job, sold my car and moved here in 1982 with no job, no apartment and no real plan. I don't think a day has passed since that I haven't at some point paused, looked around and thought about how lucky I am to live in a place that I love so much. Around sunset in the East Village, with the light glowing on the red brick buildings, it just makes my heart sing.