Can't recall how often that was. don't think it was daily, but not sure. Whatever, it was only for a short while, no more than 2 hours, if that.
I liked it, because I learned how to do fun things. One I especially liked was when we had a piece of heavy paper, perhaps poster board, and one thing we learned was how to cut the colored paper into strips, then form a circle with it, a small circle, and glue the ends together, then making more of them and linking them together to form a chain. Another favorite was a plain piece of poster board, and I would place a pretty maple or oak leaf on it, then suspend a piece of screening over it and brush paint across the screen and it would make an outline of the leaf .
That was so pretty, I thought ! All of us in class would bring our treasures home. I was so excited to show them to my parents ! Another thing I remember doing was tracings of some of the fancy letterings in some big old Bible. The first letter of the first word of each chapter of the Bible were large letters, Olde English style, and in color, so after I traced all I wanted to, I'd then color in the letters with whatever colors I liked. Sounds boring now, but at the time, being 9 years old, I really liked doing that.
I gave my first kiss there at VBS. This really cute black boy named Roy was in class, and he was so nice, and handsome, that I went over to him as he sat in his tiny chair and just leaned
over and kissed him on the cheek ! Don't think he did anything but smile at me. Think that
was my first crush, or puppy love. We were nine years old .
Paul must have gone to those classes, too, I'm sure, but don't recall what he did. Maybe he and the other younger kids had a different class. Oh, he was more than 3 and a half years my junior, so maybe he didn't even go to the vacation Bible school .
I liked coloring so much, and was very good at staying within the lines. Loved choosing which colors to color the kids in my coloring books. Chose green and yellow for little girls' dresses, or sometimes another favorite combination, orange and yellow.
Daddy would sit and color the cardboard divider that came in the box of Nabisco shredded wheat, to keep the biscuits apart. They had nice pictures, just like the ones in coloring books, so Daddy would sit with me and help color them in. I loved getting his attention that way.
He did the same thing with Paul, too, sometimes. Loved those cardboard dividers. Wonder when they stopped using them.
Anne used to take me into downtown Boston, as I've mentioned before, and I had a little greyish fur coat, hat and muffler set, that Mamma would dress me up in during cold weather
so I'd look nice, going 'in town' , as we used to say.
Well, I don't actually remember this incident, but big sister, Anne, has spoken of it several times. She said that on one of our forays into Boston, ants somehow got on my fur coat. This must have been after she let me have some candy or ice cream, and it probably got on the coat, thereby attracting ants. Anyway, when we got home, she relates how our mother scolded and scolded her for allowing that to happen. Poor Anne !
We ate a lot of cereal for breakfasts. Kellogg's stuff was what we liked, corn flakes, Rice Krispies, Raisin Bran, too, I think, and Puffed Rice. That was not Kellogg's, though. Oh, yes, and the shredded wheat. Loved how Daddy would pour hot tap water onto the biscuits, then take the back of a large spoon and press the biscuits and squeeze all that water out, then put sugar and milk on it, and mmmmm, good !
In the cold weather, cereal was oatmeal, and cornmeal, or Farina. That last one was Phyllis's favorite. I never much cared for hot cereal, unless it was super-smooth, no lumps, and had a lot of sugar on it.
We never were given an allowance. Never heard of such a thing back then. I didn't even hear any of the kids from more affluent families speak of an 'allowance' . If they did have one, I didn't know anything about it. The kids in our neighborhood all seemed to be in the same situation we were in...families struggling to make ends meet. We kids all felt rich on the few occasions when we had a nickel. Mine would mostly come from singing for company we had in our home.
Mamma would have me come into the parlor or kitchen and tell me to sing for whoever it was. I seldom wanted to, didn't like that attention, but she would make me. Sometimes, 'whoever' would give me a nickel for singing, and then the pain and embarrassment would disappear soon, because now, I was rich !! But I never got over my shyness, and she would always have to practically drag me over to sing.
I did have a good singing voice when young, and into my young adult years, but for a long time now, can't sing worth a darn. Used to love to, and, even now, sitting in front of the TV, sometimes I'll attempt to sing along, but, between the voice and having to stop for running short of breath, it's not the same. I still enjoy the songs, though, and just mouth the words when it's too much for me. Doesn't take away my enjoyment of hearing someone else sing.
Mamma and Daddy had always wanted a chicken farm. Maybe that's how come Paul and I
were each given a baby chick once. Must have been Easter time. Anyway, guess Mamma was the one who fed and took care of them, and those little chicks would follow Mamma all over the house, peeping as they went. Thought she was their mother. Loved watching that. I don't know whatever happened to those chicks. They didn't get very big...maybe they died.
Anyway, our poor parents never realized their dream. There was never any money to save toward buying a home in the country.
I had a cat once. Had her for a couple of years, anyway. Don't remember her name, but she seemed to be a nice cat, until one day, she crawled under Mamma's bed, and when I tried to pull her out, she bit me, so soon she was gone, too.
Paul had a brown terrier dog, too, for a while, Boots. He got distemper, and it was so horrible to see him throw himself from the top landing across into the wall, over and over, until someone, probably Daddy, caught him and somehow calmed him down, I guess. Because then, Paul and I had him in Paul's wagon, and we were walking down to Northampton to the Humane Society, so they could put him to sleep, pulling him along in the wagon, when suddenly his eyes started looking really weird, like a film came over them or something, and we soon realized he was dead. We cried, but finished the walk and turned him over to the people there. That was so sad.
We didn't have any more animals after that . Except those tiny little turtles, think they're called 'box turtles' ? We liked them, also, loved any animals .
Mamma used to give us Ex-lax now and then, to keep us cleaned out, I guess. She also gave us
regular doses of cod-liver oil. I sometimes liked it and would try to get more, but only sometimes.
Lucky me, I also got doses of some kind of lime, lyme juice put into my milk, to strengthen my
bones, because of my being born with a bone disease. The only one in our family !
In those days, they didn't have a name for that disease. They called it' malformation of the bones'.
When Mamma would take me to Mass Memorial Hospital for checkups on it, the doctors would ask me to put my shoulders together, and when I was really young, it seemed as if my shoulders came close to touching each other. They would have me do that every time I saw them.
Mamma was told that my teeth would always rot, and so there was no sense in having me brush them. Can you imagine ?!!. They said my baby teeth would stay with me for years, and I might never get my second set, because of so many being in my jaw.
Anyway, due to their interest in my case, they had me stay in the hospital for 2 weeks, to observe this bone condition. I wasn't sick or anything. they just wanted to study it, being a hereditary disease, and congenital. so, there I was, at age 11, in the hospital for 2 long weeks. They took X-rays, they pumped my stomach ( what that was for, I was never told ), took blood from my fingers every day. Those hurt, and I got to hiding, when I saw the redheaded nurse coming in the ward. I'd hide behind the big pillars in that room, to try and avoid the finger-pricking. That hurt so much, but I didn't mind when they took blood from my arms. Got used to that, but to this day, don't like the finger-poking.
Once, they had poured something stinky over my head, because I had head lice at the time, and they wrapped my head in a towel. I was sitting in a wheelchair waiting for an X-ray that day, when some woman passed by, and when she saw the towel, and probably smelled what was on my head, she said, 'What's the matter, kid, got cooties?' . Oh, I was so embarrassed, and it made me cry.
In those days, we kids, most kids, seemed to get them over and over, they were so prevalent.
Our mother was very clean, so it wasn't anything she did or didn't do that caused them to come so often. Mothers everywhere had to fight the darn things, often. They were just a fact
of life in those days.
Anyway, back to my stay in the hospital. I did have some fun, because the nurses took a liking to me, and would show mw how to make a bed, hospital corners and all, and I loved learning that. It was sweet of them to take the time to teach me.
I never did hear what they learned about the bone disease, if anything. All I know is I was forbidden to run, because I might fall and hit my head, and that could be fatal. So, no more
tag, or any other game involving running. Of course, being a kid, I sometimes did, out of Mamma's sight.
Once, after school, I was still in the schoolyard for some reason, and I ran. why, I don't know,
all I remember is, I was running in the yard, nobody else around, and I tripped and fell, right on my face ! I started bawling, and hurrying home, all bloody, crying all the way, and when
Mamma saw me, she started yelling, accusing me of running, and that made me cry all the more, because it was hurting, and I was bleeding, and all Mamma could do was yell at me.
I could have DIED !! That's what I was thinking, and she didn't love me, because she was supposed to take me in her arms and make it all better, and here she was, yelling at me !!
Of course, she did take me in her arms, then, and got me all cleaned up.
I knew years later that the only reason she yelled was because it scared the bejeepers out of her, thinking of how close I maybe came to dying. That's what those stupid doctors did, made her afraid to let me act like a normal kid, because I might die from a fall on my head !
Geez, how backward thinking they were in those days.
And, of course, when I later had my first child, Linda, who inherited the same bone disease, I had those same fears for her.
I was told by her doctors that she might have to wear a helmet to protect her head, but I didn't want her to have to do that, and be 'different' from the other kids, and neither did she, so they gave us the option of her going to a 'handicapped' school, and not have to wear a helmet. So, we chose that. She only had to go for one year, because her fontanelles closed sufficiently for her to go to regular school.
Well, think this is enough for today. Have some more thoughts and memories to write here, and will do that soon, maybe tomorrow.
Hope you're still enjoying childhood exploits .
Stay well, count your blessings, and tune in again.
Love you.
D
Good stuff Mom! And, as usual, there were things I don't remember that you may have told me. I didn't know you had a cat, or chicks, or Uncle Paul had a dog! I'm so glad you're writing all this down!!
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