Who is Super Sleuth? Part I

I entered this world a normal screaming baby girl on August 11, 1945, just a few days after the Enola Gay dropped the A-bomb on Hiroshima. As I grew older, when someone would ask when I was born, I would tell them, "I was the fallout that resulted from the big explosion in Japan."

I was Baptized Eugenia Catherine DeRossi, and like most people I don't remember much of my baby years, but I have fond memories of my early childhood. I was born a blond (please no blond jokes), and had big blue eyes and skin that loved the sun. I am one of those lucky few people whose skin rarely, if ever sunburns. During the summer months my skin would get very dark, and my hair would get even lighter from the sun. I was often asked if I bleached my hair, I didn't, although it may have looked like I did. My sister Frances on the other hand, was a petite brunette with sun sensitive skin. She could get sun poisoning sitting under an umbrella in the shade. We called my sister Frania, which is Polish for Frances. My given name Eugenia, was the same as my mother's, because of this, everyone called her Jean and me Ginger.

My father's mother was born in Poland, his father was born in Austria. They came to America to escape the famine and the invasion of their homeland by the Germans. They left everything they owned behind except for what they could carry to this new and strange land. They barely escaped before their beloved country was over run. Because of their flight for freedom, my parents and all their sisters and brothers were born here in America. For this I am very grateful.

Like all of the other refugees that migrated to America, they were processed at Ellis Island. When asked their name they answered, "Deroszy". The person jotting down the information didn't understand Polish, so they spelled the name the way it sounded to them, and it came out...DeRossi. A nice Italian name given to a Polish immigrant. Since my Babchia (grandmother) and Dziadziu (grandfather) couldn't read or write English, it didn't matter to them how it was spelled, as long as they got to stay in this country. My grandparents insisted that everyone learn to speak English, so Polish was rarely if ever spoken, except when there was a conversation the children weren't supposed to overhear. Needless to say I never did learn to speak, read, or write Polish. I have had to guess at how words were pronounced or spelled. I would welcome help from any Polish speaking members on WDC in the proper spelling of Polish words used here.

Up until I was about seven years old, I lived at 499 third Ave, Brooklyn, 15 NY, between Eleventh and Twelfth Street. Back then there was no such thing as zip codes. The number 15 designated the area of Brooklyn in which we resided, it helped the mailman direct our mail to the right neighborhood.

Living in the city had its advantages and disadvantages. The advantages were the ease with which you could get around. Cabs, buses and trains were everywhere. The ninth street Subway was only two streets over from where we lived. This section of the Subway ran overhead instead of underground. I liked riding the train better when it was above ground. You could see and hear all the sights and sounds of the city rather then riding through a stuffy hole. In the city we didn't just live in a building, we lived in a community where most families knew each other. The disadvantages of living in a city was that all the buildings abutted each other and if one building became infested with roaches it was only a matter of time before all the buildings became infested. It was also easier for fires to spread from one building to the next.

We lived in a cold water flat on the second floor of a three story building. There was a business on the ground floor, and my paternal grandparents lived on the third floor directly above us. Both apartments were set-up very similar to each other.

A cold water flat means just what it says. The water is cold and so is the flat. In other words, the apartment had no real source of central heat, air-conditioning or hot water, although we did have electricity and indoor plumbing. The flat (apartment), was in the shape of a C, more like a block letter C. The two rooms at the top of the C were the two front rooms facing Third Ave. and these two rooms were kept closed off all winter by a pair of glass French doors. The smaller room to the right was used for storage and the larger room to its left, was our living room. Every Thanksgiving we would set up a live Christmas tree in the living room and we would leave it up all winter hoping my father would come home on leave from the Army, or until the weather got so warm that the needles began to fall from the tree. My father was stationed in Japan along with his brother Robert who was also in the Army, his brother Julius was a cook in the Navy. If my father came home on leave, we would then celebrate Christmas all over again. My sister and I tended the tree all winter. We would take turns watering the eight foot tree every day. Because the room was so cold, the pine needles never fell off, and sometimes it got so cold that the water in the tree basin froze solid. As you can guess, we never stayed in the front rooms very long during the winter.

The tree was awesome with fancy glass balls that sparkled when the lights hit them. Each glass ball was carefully unwrapped and hung on the tree. On days when the room wasn't too cold, my sister Frania and I would sit and stare at the tree for hours, marveling at its beauty. We hung popcorn strings and carefully draped tinsel over them, one strand of tinsel at a time. Every once in a while Frania and I would have a tinsel fight and throw hand fulls of tinsel at each other getting them all tangled up, untangling them again was no easy feat and so we would just pick up these clumps of tinsel and toss them onto the tree laughing as we did so. We also hung plastic icicles that glowed-in-the-dark. But the thing we liked most about the decorations were the candle lights. Clear glass candles, filled with a colored liquid was strung together on an electric wire. At the base of the candle was a round colored plastic balloon that housed a small light. The liquid filled the candles about three-quarters of the way up. When the lights were turned on (plugged-in to an electric outlet) the candles lit up and the heat generated by the small light bulbs made the colored water in the glass cylinders bubble. We could sit and stare at them for hours just watching those bubbles rise, it was mesmerizing. It is difficult, but not impossible to find these electric lights anymore, although I did see them once in a magazine.

One Christmas, Frania and I got matching black cowgirl outfits with white plastic fringe on the skirt and vest. We also got cap pistols and holsters, a star shaped sheriff's badge, and white cowgirl hats. This was our favorite gift that year until our father came home on leave in April when we finally got to celebrate Christmas as a complete family.

In the summer, my sister and I would open the windows in the front living room and sit on the sill dangling our feet outside (to all you youngsters out there I don't recommend this). There was a one foot wide shelf that ran along the front of the building about two feet below the windowsill. My sister and I never tempted fate by trying to climb out onto this ledge. We may have been daring but we were not stupid.

At the back of this room was a set of glass French doors that led into my parent's bedroom. This room offered no privacy because it only had three walls. The fourth wall was absent because their room opened up into the kitchen. We spent many hours in this room curled up on my parents bed watching a black and white TV. Our favorite shows were "Beany and Cecil", "Winky Dink and You", and "The Merry Mailman".

Beany and Cecil were hand puppets. Beany was a boy puppet who wore a bi-colored beanie hat with a small propeller on the top. Cecil was a dragon with two buttons for nostrils, or was it his eyes? Please forgive me, this old mind of mine it some times has a senior moment. Beany and Cecil were best friends that went on many adventures together and we got to share these adventures with them.

What I remember most about "Winky Dink and You", was the fact that you could participate at home with what was going on on the TV show. My parents wrote to the show and ordered this sheet of clear plastic that we could place over the TV screen. It stuck to the screen like magic. During the show Winky Dink would draw or write words or numbers on the screen and we were allowed to write on this plastic sheet with a special crayon and trace over what Winky Dink had done. It amazed us to be allowed to draw on the TV screen and when we were done we could wipe it off like magic. This plastic sheet was also tri-colored, blue on top, pink in the middle and green on the bottom. It was supposed to make what you viewed on TV look like you were watching it in color instead of black and white.

"The Merry Mailman" starred Ray Heatherton. I can still remember many of the words to his theme song. His daughter, Joey Heatherton, later became a famous movie actress. I don't expect you youngsters to know who I am talking about but you baby boomers will know.

After the morning children's shows were over it was time to get ready for school. Frania and I went to Saint Thomas Aquinas, a Catholic school located on Fourth Ave, I think it was between Eighth and Ninth Street. It's been almost fifty years since I've been back there so I may not be exactly correct as to the street location. The nuns there were very strict. The back of my sister's head bears a testament to that fact, when one of the nuns threw a book at her for turning around in her seat.

The kitchen was the heart of our home. It was a large room in the back of the apartment with two tall windows that overlooked the back yard. A large table with a porcelain top stood in the center of the room accompanied by four identical wooden chairs. This table was the center of many chase scenarios between my sister and myself. She liked to tease me and I would get very angry with her. One day I was so upset with her I opened the draw on the side of the table and pulled out a pair of scissors and threw them at her. It was a good thing my aim wasn't very good or I would have had a lot of explaining to do.The entry door to the apartment was in the kitchen to the right of my parent's bedroom, in other words, the inside part of the C.

Between the two windows at the back of the kitchen stood a huge white porcelain tub. This was not a normal sized bathtub. The tub stood on six sturdy legs and was about three feet high, seven feet long and three feet wide. It was divided into two huge compartments. My sister would bathe in one compartment and I would bathe in the other. We needed to climb on chairs to get into the tub. The tub also doubled as our laundry sink. My mother would fill both sides with water. One side was for washing and the other side for rinsing. The side for washing she filled with hot water. Where did the hot water come from? Well I'll get to that in a minute. My sister and I thought laundry day was fun. My mother would drop two blue packets into the water and we delighted in swirling them around and watching them turn the water blue. After placing all the clothes in the water, my sister and I would stand on chairs and lean into the tub and slosh the clothes all around in the blue water. It always amazed us that neither the clothes nor us turned blue. After all the clothes were thoroughly soaked, mom would get out the wood and metal wash board. She would then scrub each piece of clothing with a bar of lye soap and rub them across the accordion pleated ridges of the wash-board until she was convinced each piece of clothing was clean. Then she would wring out the clothes and toss them into the rinse tub. My sister and I would swirl the clothes in the rinse water, then we would twist the clothes over the tub to rid them of the excess water. Frania took one end of each piece while I took the other end and we would twist in opposite directions as hard as we could to try and get out as much water as possible before tossing them back into the waiting laundry bucket. I was only about five years old back then and my sister was eight . We thought this was great fun. I don't know who got wetter, us or the clothes. In the heat of the summer this was better then going to the beach, but in the winter it was a drag.

Once the laundry was done, mom would drain the tubs and then refill them. I never understood the reason for her insisting that we now take a bath. We were already drenched from head to toe, what did we need a bath for? While we took our bath, our mom hung the clothes on a clothesline with wooden clothespins. The clothesline stretched from the top of our kitchen window, to a very tall pole about forty feet away. It was fun watching her push the clothes away from the building. I always wondered what it would feel like to be hung out on the line and flutter in the breeze. Although the clothes were stiff when brought back in after they were dry, they smelled very fresh and crispy clean. After our baths, and the tub was cleaned, my mother would lower this huge piece of ply-wood down over the tub. This lid was attached to the wall by huge hinges, that allowed it to be lifted and lowered. A cloth skirting was attached all around the edge of the wood, and when lowered the tub disappeared under the skirting. The tub now doubled as a large counter top and work station.

One day my father surprised my mother by bringing home a wringer-washing machine. We put the new electric washer next to the sink where a thick black hose was attached to the kitchen sink faucet, the other end was placed into the washing machine basin to fill it with water. The clothes were put in the wash basin that was supported by four legs. In this basin the clothes were agitated much like today's machines. Attached to the machine were rollers with a crank handle. When this handle was turned it turned the rollers. The clothes were then placed between the rollers and as the rollers turned they pulled the clothes between them squeezing out all the excess water back into the the wash basin. After the excess water was squeeze out, the clothes dropped into a laundry bucket on the other side. It definitely did a better job than my sister and I did, it also cut down on the drying time. Afterward the dirty water was pumped out. Ah, the wonders of the modern invention.

Along the final wall of the kitchen, nestled in the corner next to the window, was our sink where we washed our dirty dishes. A large portion of this last wall was taken up by a huge, black, cast iron, coal stove. This stove was our only source of heat. When fully loaded with coal, and burning, it radiated enough heat to heat the kitchen and the two bedrooms next to the kitchen. A huge pot of water was kept on the stove at all times to add humidity to the rooms and to have hot water handy for cooking, bathing and washing clothes (now you know the secret of the hot water). The water had to constantly be replaced due to evaporation caused by boiling. When my mother cooked on this stove she used a heavy, black, cast iron skillet. It was my sister's job and mine to climb down two flights of stairs to the basement, fill up two buckets of coal from the coal bin, and carry them back upstairs. My sister did most of the carrying since I was still too small to carry the heavy buckets up the stairs.

Although this stove supplied us with warmth and a source for cooking our food, it also was the source of many a nightmare. I used to have a doll that I loved. It was about eight inches long and had a soft rubber body and head. Her eyes opened when held upright and closed when she was laid down. Blond curly hair was ingrained into her head and I marveled at how I could see each small grouping of hair come out of these small holes and it glistened in the sun like spun gold. One evening when we should have been asleep Frania and I were playing with my doll and giggling and talking. We were getting my parents quite angry, (I think they wanted some quiet time for themselves,) and after yelling at us several times my father had finally had enough of our noise, so he came in, grabbed the doll out of my hands, went into the kitchen and threw her into the burning coals in our stove. For many months afterward I would dream of her surrounded by hot, blazing fire, and her eyes wide open in terror. It was the last doll I ever owned until I was old enough to buy my own.

I shared the bedroom, and a bed with my sister. It was a very small room to the right of the kitchen, the final room of the C shape. There wasn't room for any furnishings other than the bed. A built in closet was at the foot of the bed, it didn't have a door, only a curtain that draped across the opening. In order to get to the closet you had to crawl across the top of the bed and pull aside the curtain. Just like the two kitchen windows, our bedroom window over looked the backyard, where we spent many hours on the wooden swing set our grandfather built for us. We were their first grandchildren and we were spoiled rotten. Rather than climbing down the flight of stairs and walking the hallway to the back yard, my sister and I would take a short cut. We would climb out our bedroom window and drop down onto the roof of the back shed. Of course we didn't do this in view of our parents.

Our bathroom was located at the end of the hallway near the front of the building next to the base of the stairs leading up to my grandparent's apartment. Their bathroom was located directly above ours. Both bathrooms were not heated and neither was the hallway. We always made sure we were fully clothed whenever we needed to use this facility. Our bathroom was very dark because it didn't have a window in it. It only had a bare light bulb overhead that was turned on by pulling a long string. I preferred to climb the flight of stairs to my grandparent's bathroom. It had an overhead skylight, and a metal rung ladder that led up to the roof. Their toilet was different than ours. A large porcelain basin was suspended high on the wall above the toilet. A long chain was attached to a lever, that when pulled, allowed the water to drop down through long metal pipes into the toilet. I always wondered how the water got back up into that basin.

One day Frania swiped a cigarette from my mother's purse and while my mother went to the neighborhood deli, just a few doors away to get groceries for dinner, my sister lit the cigarette, and the two of us sat on our bed trying to emulate the grown-ups. I did not know how to inhale so I just puffed and tried to make the end of the cigarette glow. When we heard our mother climbing up the stairs we were sure she would be able to smell the smoke, so in a panicked state we tossed the lit cigarette into the clothes closet hoping she wouldn't find out what we had done. If not for the sensitive nose of our mother it was quite possible that we might have single-handily burned down the entire neighborhood, as it was we only singed a few of our clothes. Punishment is severe for arsonists, even unwitting young ones. I sometime think, that this one incident is the reason I never started smoking. My sister did eventually become a very heavy chain smoker.

My parents used to roll their own cigarettes, it was cheaper then buying them already made. They would fill special papers with tobacco and then lick the edge of the paper and press it closed. This was very tedious work and unless you knew how to do it there was more tobacco out of the paper then in it. After a while my father purchased a small red machine that rolled the cigarettes a lot faster then they could.

In the mid summer when it was severely hot, my sister and I tried to stay cool by sitting in the hallway vestibule between two sets of doors. When both doors were opened, a breeze would blow through the hallway. We would sit there on the floor between the doors and play jacks, pick-up-sticks or war for hours, or until our friends came and asked us to play tag, ring-o-levio, red-light-green light, hide and seek (this was played mostly at night), giant steps, Simon said, pitch pennies, flip baseball cards, play hand ball, pick-up-stix, trade cards and comic books, play stick ball or roller skate. There was always something to keep us occupied. I can't understand these kids today when they say they are bored because there is nothing to do. I think video games have dulled their thinking and sapped their imagination. Very rarely did you see an obese child back then. The majority of the games we played were very physical and burned a lot of calories. We never complained of boredom, there was just way too much to do and too much fun to be had. Sometimes one of the neighbors would open up one of the fire hydrants and we would all enjoy cooling down in the cold water. Our clothes worked just as well as bathing suits.

Frania and I looked forward to our parent's payday, it meant that we got paid too.
When mom gave us each our ten cent allowance we thought we were rich. We would go just a few doors down from where we lived, to Mike's Luncheonette located on the corner of 11th street and 3rd Ave. It was one of our favorite places to hang out. For a nickle we could fill a small bag up with candy. We would buy Tootsie Rolls, Mary Janes, Bit-O-Honey, Squirrel-nut and Root Beer Barrel Candy. Some times we would buy Red Waxed Lips, tiny waxed bottles filled with a colored liquid, Bazooka Bubble Gum, Chocolate Licorice Sticks and Gum that looked like cigarettes with a white powder on the tip that when puffed looked like smoke, candy necklaces and candy dots. Most of these candies can still be purchased today. Like me they have withstood the test of time. For ten cents we could also purchase a chocolate egg-creme. It was a drink made with chocolate syrup, seltzer and milk. It was delicious. Another favorite of ours was charlette-rouse, a small yellow cake encased in a cardboard cylinder and topped with whipped cream.

Although I was much younger than Frania she never minded taking me with her whenever she went out to play with her friends, or we would hang out at the YWCA on Ninth Street, and try out for a part in one of their plays or musicals. My sister had a very sweet voice, not very powerful, but she could carry a tune. I, on the other hand, was loud and tone deaf. Although I loved to sing, I couldn,t carry a tune to save my life. To this day, my husband usually covers his ears whenever I try and sing along with the radio.

One of my fondest memories of my sister was when we both tried out for a musical and my sister let me sing with her. We auditioned by singing the only song I knew at the time, "Sisters". It was made famous by Rosemary Clooney and the actress that played her sister (whose's name I forgot) in the movie "White Christmas" with Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye. My sister and I sang it all the time. Needless to say, she got the part, and I stayed home.

While we lived in the city, my sister and I were inseparable, we were also nothing alike. Besides our difference in age, hair color and skin sensitivity, my sister was talented, friendly and an extrovert, I on the other hand had very little talent of any sort and was an introvert. She was daring and outspoken, I was quiet and shy, a mere shadow of her.

Frania took after my mother, both were very athletically inclined. She loved speed skating and competed in many races. She also loved roller dancing. She was very small in stature and competed against people much larger then she was. My sister never grew taller then four feet eleven inches. Although she was small for her age, what she lacked in size she made up for it in determination and speed. She may never have been a champion speed skater but she placed in the top three many times. As for me, I just loved to skate and ambled along at a comfortable pace. Competition was not my style.

My mother also excelled at sports, especially swimming, and won many medals in competition. She was also very petite and towered at a whopping five foot two and a hundred and five pounds. Back then the bathing suits for competition were supplied by the organization hosting the swimming meet, (one size fits all)...NOT. During one of the swimming races my mother actually swam out of her bathing suit, her one size fits all suit...didn't exactly fit. In spite of this embarrassment, my mother still managed to win a full college scholarship in athletics, but because she was the oldest of the six remaining siblings, she quit school one month before graduation to get a job to help support the family when her father broke his arm. It was a sacrifice she gladly made but one she wished she didn't have to make. My mother dreamed of being a physical education teacher. Instead she later married her high school sweetheart and had two daughters of her own, my sister and me.

Although my father loved us he was very disappointed that one of us wasn't a boy to carry on the family name. None of my father's sisters ever had any children. His brother Julius sired four girls. Finally, Tina, my father's youngest brother's wife, gave birth to a baby boy. Little Bobby Jr. was born on his father's thirty fifth birthday. The first boy born to the family in 35 years.

My father wasn't always the perfect dad. At times he was self centered, selfish and uncaring. What he lacked in being an affectionate father, he more then made up for it by being a wonderful grandfather to my sister's children and to my first born. It pains me to know that my own children never got to know him. In a way I am a lot like my dad. Strong minded, opinionated, and yet unwilling to show my true feelings in public. Both my parents were not very huggy kissy to us when we were young and so I too am a little uncomfortable with all the physical closeness that many family members enjoy. Because of this I appear a little cold and stand-offish although I am very loving, caring and giving.

Since Frania and I were so close, if one of us got into trouble, we both got into trouble. She was the brains and the one that dreamed up the crazy schemes that were our undoing. I remember one weekend she took ten dollars out of my mother's purse. Ten dollars was like a whole weeks pay back then. We walked to the subway station, took a train from Brooklyn to Manhattan, and spent a good portion of the day in Central Park riding the Merry-go-Round, eating Sabrett hot dogs, visiting the zoo and feeding the pigeons. When we got back we still had some money left, so we went to the movies. For ten cents you could stay and watch one movie after another and not worry about being thrown out, there was usually a triple feature on Saturday.

You are probably wondering what was wrong with our parents for not keeping an eye on us. Well, we didn't lack for friends and most of the time we were never home anyway. There were no bullies, kidnappers or sexual perverts to worry about, only friends and neighbors who looked after everyone. We lived a lifetime in the streets roller-skating or playing stick-ball, hop-scotch and jumping rope or double-dutch if enough kids were out to turn the rope ends. I never heard a curse word out of anyone's mouth; no one would dare use profanity because lye soap was not very tasty. Parents were stricter and weren't afraid to exert their authority but they were also lenient and offered us freedom to explore and enjoy life. However, we didn't get off easy, we did get punished for stealing the ten dollars.

The following year my sister and I had to have our tonsils removed. The hospital seemed a dark and scary place. I remember laying on this cold table feeling all alone. A big white light shining brightly into my eyes almost blinding me and I felt very afraid. A strange hand holding a rubber mask, clamped the mask over my mouth and nose. I heard someone say take a deep breath and count to ten. I was too afraid and so I held my breath as long as I could hoping they would uncover my mouth and nose...they never did. When I couldn't hold my breath any longer I took a deep gasping breath, and as I did this, a vile tasting stench entered my nostrils and mouth. I wanted to gag and throw up but the Ether was quick to act and within seconds I was unconscious. When I awoke I had a sore throat and could barely speak. I noticed Frania wasn't doing any better then I was. Our throats took several weeks to heal and we missed a lot of school, but there were also some great benefits attached to having your tonsils removed. We got to eat all the ice creme we wanted but we also had a lot of school work to catch up on. For at least a month after the surgery I would occasionally catch a whiff of that vile smell and I would feel sick. It's a smell you don't forget very easily. It didn't matter where I was, indoors or outside, it seemed determined to follow me wherever I went.

My parents were huge baseball fans and we spent a lot of time at Ebbet's Field watching the Brooklyn Dodgers play ball. Emmet Kelly the famous hobo clown entertained during the seventh inning stretch and before each game. He was a joy to watch.

During these glorious years, NY was host to three baseball teams. The Brooklyn Dodgers, NY Yankees and the NY Giants. We were Dodger fans through and through, up until they deserted us and moved to Los Angeles in California. The Giants also deserted us and moved to San Francisco leaving us with only the Yankees. How I hated that team. I thought they were all conceited snobs. Because they won so many Pennants and World Series they seemed untouchable, unstoppable, unreal. I have an affinity for the underdog, that is why I later became a NY Mets fan. They were lovable, funny clowns. Each player seemed real, and down to earth, like old friends. Their outrageous fielding, the goofball antics by Marvelous Marve Thornberry and their determination to do better gave us something to hope for. They brought a new life back to NY. They filled a gap that was missing, after being deserted by the Dodgers and the Giants. They also brought back several players from the Dodgers that became Mets. Baseball was now not just a sport but a fun event. If you needed or wanted a laugh, just head out to Shea Stadium and watch the Mets play. They were the entertainers of the diamond.

True Mets fans were loyal. They didn't boo or hiss if a player was in a slump, they took it in stride. After all, they had no place to go but up. Even though the Houston Astros were conceived around the same time as the Mets, and fared better in league standings, the Mets were still number one to their fans.

Besides baseball, there was plenty else to do and see in NY. I remember going to see a live performance by Jan Murray, a famous comedian at the time. My sister and I wore matching iridescent satin jackets, chartreuse in color (a bright yellow-green). Our seats were center stage about eight rows back. He was so funny we were practically rolling out of our seats onto the floor. Suddenly, Mr. Murray stopped in the middle of his performance, he walked to the center of the stage pointed at me and my sister, asked us to stand up and said, "What are you two laughing at?"

My sister and I chuckled even harder and shouted, "YOU!" This was one of my fondest child hood memories.

I had a very good friend named Jimmy who lived up the block on Eleventh Street. Jimmy had a birth defect. He was born with one good arm and one arm that ended just below his elbow. One day while hanging out together we were skipping flattened tin cans on the street pavement, kind of like skipping rocks on water, but we had no water or rocks, so we used cans instead. Well, one of the cans Jimmy skipped, bounced up and hit me just above my left eye causing a deep laceration that required two stitches. I never skipped cans again. Instead, we would step on unflattened cans with our heels until they adhered to the heel of our shoes, then we would walk around like we were wearing high heeled shoes.

After our father was discharged from the Army he got a job at the Brooklyn Navy Yard where he earned a decent living. Occasionally on the Fridays after work, our parents would pack up the car, a tan, two door forty-nine Plymouth and we would drive from Brooklyn to Indiana to visit my mother's sister, or go upstate NY. Everything was always spur-of-the-moment. Nothing was ever planned.

We lived a happy carefree life as children or so it seemed to us, but life is never always how it appears at first. Although daddy was not an alcoholic he enjoyed drinking beer and alcohol in large quantities and would often forget to come home right after work. Instead he would go out drinking with his friends and spend a good portion of his pay leaving many bills unpaid. There was a time when my parents were talking privately about a divorce. Thank God that never happened. Instead my father got a job at Republic Aviation on Long Island. They bought a small new construction, three bedroom house in Central Islip, Long Island. We bid our farewells to city life and moved out to the country. But that's another story.

to be continued