As a small child: getting stuck to the floor ( temper?); falling down the stairs (my knees were always scabby), mercurochrome and a kiss from Mom stopped the tears.
I remember going through a “shut up” phase that finally earned me a slap one day in the postoffice. Did I do it again after that? Of course not.
The house I grew up in Medford, Massachusetts:
When still small – I used to talk to the picture of my mother when I was supposed to be napping on her big bed – and one day I decided that she would be very impressed with my beauty and surprised at my grownup appearance dressed in her pink crepe dress with the accordion pleated cape. I managed some makeup too sitting on the bench in front of the mirrored vanity. I opened the door to meet with disapproval rather than the awe and admiration I had expected.
It’s funny how a child remembers clothes (except for the time I neglected to put on my panties when we were to take a trip to Boston with Aunt Hazel.) Mom also had an off white dress with cape like the pink. She had a turquoise moire evening gown with narrow straps and a short jacket – it had a large dark rose velvet bow. And I have vague recollections of another gown, blue I think, and of all things to remember – that it was made of mousseline-de-soie. And another (remembered because in my teens I borrowed it) was coral with a round neckline, a little peplum, and small metal stars on the bodice. . . . And what fun to come home from play or school and find that Mom had made me a new dress. All by hand – my favorite was white with little blue flowers, light blue bias binding with fagotting at the neckline!
My early coiffure, a dutch cut with bangs, was replaced at one time by CURLS- a perm at home, and curling irons heated up on the gas stove. . . . . . . and all the bits & pieces happening: Mail twice a day, the ragman, milkman, iceman & vegetable man, in carts & in wintertime tungs. Bowman’s grocery delivering a phoned in order every day, Medford Square stores where the clerks got down what you wanted (absolutely no self-service.) Pampa coming home with a live lobster in his valice, Dad taking me duck hunting, going with Mom & Dad to the gun club and learning to shoot (prone at 3 years old).
And that is just the beginning –


