My Life in Stockings

The Debut The girls’ dress code in my 1960s grade school consisted of a skirt or jumper, sturdy Oxford shoes and bobby sox or knee socks in the winter.  Stockings were not permitted.  Bare legs were allowed, but not a completely covered leg; at least a bare kneecap was required.  Perhaps the rationale was that…

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My Life in Guinea Pigs

A Harsh Reality I found the guinea pig nestled in the back corner of the linen closet.  He had escaped from his cage a couple of days before, at least that’s when somebody noticed he was gone, because my brother had lost interest in his pet.  My mother organized a search party. He stared up…

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My Life in Typewriters

1960s It was one of those in-between summers.  I had outgrown sleep-away camp and wasn’t old enough to be a camp counselor, so my mother had to patch together activities to keep me occupied.  Typing class was the solution. Even though I had no occasion to use a typewriter, I didn’t question the wisdom of…

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The Flies in My Life

After an arduous morning of weeding and other nap-worthy chores, I head to the screened porch, supplement the spring breeze with the overhead fan, plump the pillows and then settle in with a shimmering glass of beaded ice water. My book is merely a prop; I know that within ten pages it will transition to…

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My Life in Gum

The First Quarter I remember my mother standing in the kitchen chatting on the yellow telephone with the long and twisting cord.  She would twirl her short brown hair with her index finger as she chewed a piece of gum.  She used her tongue to fold the gum in half, trapping a small air bubble,…

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My Life in Song

I have inherited many gifts from my father, both genetically and by example – reasonable looks (except for my fleshly earlobes), brown hair that just refuses to go grey, kindness, loyalty and commitment to family.  But among my siblings, there is one thing my father and I share exclusively – our inability to carry a…

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