In the beginning

 

A young man, age twenty, graduated from College and was working on his Master's Degree when his father helped him start his own car dealership. He was already engaged and on his way in the world when he was talking to his friend one afternoon. \

Happening to glance out the window, the most beautiful red head he'd ever seen was crossing the street. He exclaimed, "Who is that woman?"

His friend, a little less enthusiastic, responded, "That is my sister."

After a whirlwind courtship that included dancing in the moonlight to the car radio on a covered bridge, he called the woman his little bean blossom, because, he said, she was beautiful, delicate and rare. They tried to elope the night before their wedding, but changed their minds and were married in a big church wedding on August 15, 1948. Just three weeks after meeting.

He arranged for a furniture store to open just for them after hours and they picked out the furniture for their first home. Never people to put anything off, they immediately tried to start a family and like many young people were very impatient. They thought it was never going to happen.

I was born the day after Thanksgiving, by ceasarean section, a blonde, blued eyed baby girl with curly hair on November 25, 1949.

My earliest memory is looking through the bars of my crib at a lamp that my mother could twist to send the light out in the direction she wanted. My next one was sitting at the end of a big table staring up at the most beautiful cake I had ever seen. It looked like a fluffy lamb! My Great Aunt Lela had baked it for me as she would bake one every year for the next few years. It turned out I did not like the coconut that made it look fluffy and shortly after that I got a splinter in my bare foot that had to be removed. I remember the faces of my Aunt Betsy and Uncle R.I. and others surrounding me telling me it would be okay. It still hurt. I was two.

Those were huge years for me. We lived in a large Georgian house with a living room that had two giant double doors, one on each end. I would ride my tricycle through one door, down the dark scary hallway, past the staircase and in the other end's door.  And in the afternoon I shared a big green armchair with my mother while she read to me. From that chair I could see through to the hallway and our front door with a half moon transom above it. On some days I would see a red scarf, tied in a square not like it was ready to be worn around the neck, fly through the transom and land on the hallway rug. I knew that meant my grandmother would soon arrive and shortly thereafter, the door would open and in she would come. I loved having Grandma there. She was my mother's mother.

My other grandmother came one night with two blue metal trunks. Inside each one was a doll that stood on big flat feet and had a whole wardrobe of clothes. The girl doll was mine. The boy doll was for my baby sister, Caroline, who was two years younger than me. One night my Daddy woke me up and unlatched the baby gate that crisscrossed in front of my door. I got my finger caught in the gate and began crying. He said I had a present to give Mommy for Mother's Day. We went down to the dining room and there was a beautiful yellow Canary that my mother named Caruso.

Not all of my night awakenings were so joyful though. Sometimes I would waked up in my youth bed with the half sides so I wouldn't fall out and there would be flames covering my blankets! It was very scary and I remember wondering why they didn't hurt me this time? I've always wondered about those times. They continued until I was close to four or five years old and I have no idea what caused them. I had never been in a fire.

The first Christmas that I remember was magical. There were two green foil wrapped packages with gold ribbons on the top shelf of the pantry that I was told Santa had brought. The night before Christmas I lay in my bed looking at the shadows that danced across the wall of windows and wondering if they were Santy Claus. The only memory I have of Christmas Day was getting a little metal refrigerator filled with real tiny food! There was a tiny restaurant size glass jar of milk, a tiny can of Hershey's chocolate and some cheese. 

My father built a small porch off the kitchen that he told me was just for me so I could go out and play in the yard. I had a sandbox out there with a canopy over it and toy sifters and shovels and pails to play with. I remember a girl called Becky Brooks who was a little older than me sifting all the sand out so that there were only tiny pebbles left. She told me it was popcorn and I ate it, but it didn't taste like popcorn. 

I loved that yard and my porch. I could look up and see my mother leaning out the second story window washing the outside panes and our English bulldog, Cappy, would wander around while I was out there. One day I was in the house and I heard Cappy, crying at the basement door. I opened it and was met by Cappy, frothing at the mouth and howling as he lunged at me. My uncle slammed the door shut just in time! Someone had put ground glass in hamburger and thrown it over the fence for Cappy to eat.

The only other memory I have at that house was when I was supposed to be napping. I got up and managed to put on my new little blue crepe nightgown and robe along with some white bunny fur slippers. I was so proud of myself! I went downstairs to show Mommy, but all that happened was she got upset because I had not stayed down for my nap. She didn't seem to notice how beautiful I looked.

In 1952 my brother, Tom, was born and we moved to Champaign, Illinois.