Wallpaper

We had this wallpaper on one wall and the soffits in the kitchen of our house on Lorraine Street. It was called Medici. We loved it--the people and their clothing, the busyness of it, and because it had so much for your eyes to see and learn about those times. 

About a year after we sold that house the new owner invited me in to see the changes they had made. The wallpaper was gone. No surprise, I guess. It was not something everyone would like; somebody said it was too many eyes looking at them. But taking down that wallpaper was the only change the owners made that I felt sad about.

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Grandma's farm

My paternal grandfather was killed while driving a sleigh that was hit by a car. The family lived in the little house behind the barn in this picture. Afterwards, Grandma continued building the white house (behind the tree). There were two bedrooms upstairs. Downstairs was a kitchen, a bedroom, living room, dining room, pantry. and a front porch with windows. There was also a basement, but I never went down there. It was a small house, but the eight of them managed. During most of my childhood there was running water in the kitchen sink and electricity in the house. The outhouse was beside the barn. (This picture was taken after she had a toilet installed in the house. The outhouse is gone.)

  

Grandma had about 5 cows; Daisy was my favorite because she was the gentlest, but I was afraid of all of them. I sometimes had the job of bringing the cows in for milking. I would throw things at those giant animals, much bigger than I, to get them to move, but they would just calmly walk to the barn without attacking me.  I was always amazed. It was fun to watch Grandma milk the cows and squirt it into the mouths of the cats. She would never let me try milking because the cows kicked when someone unfamiliar tried to milk them. I got to drive the tractor one summer when I was around 10, while the grown-ups were haying. 

We lived in the suburbs of Washington, DC. Grandma lived in Ironwood Township, Michigan. Our every other year visits to her farm, playing with my cousins and the two girls who lived nearby: these are some of my favorite memories. 

Trafalgar Square 1974

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Why is this man surrounded by pigeons?

Mice

[No picture this time.]

Lois's dad bought a corncrib full of corn to feed their two horses. One Saturday he asked Lois and me to help him load the corn into his pickup truck so he could haul it home.

 

Lois and I started putting ears of corn into bushel baskets to carry them to the pickup. I picked up a couple of ears, and there was a family of mice, a mother and some babies. Scream! Lois's dad said we should continue loading the corn and not to worry about the mice. But they were everywhere.

 

We caught the farm carts and took them to the corncrib. They helped a little bit, first killing and eating some, then just killing some, then just playing with them, and finally they quit and went to take naps. And still there were what seemed like hundreds of mice. So Lois and I started picking the mice up by their tails and throwing them, hard, against the stone foundation of the corncrib. We killed about 50 of them that way, but many escaped, too.

 

The pickup finally was filled, and we left with her dad. He unloaded the corn at their house. We all had lunch. And then we went back for more corn. The stiffened mouse corpses were all over the places we needed to work. There were many more mice to kill as we finished loading the corn that afternoon. We even saw a rat, but we let that one get away, along with more mouse escapees.

 

That was a day I'll never forget. It wasn't fun. We just did our job the best we could figure out how to do it. If I don't know that I already did it, I would never believe that I could be such a killer. I hope I'm never haunted by all those little mouse ghosts.

Yellowjacket Warrior

One hot July, Bill donned his armor to avoid being stung while spraying the yellowjacket nest under the deck—parka, gloves, nylon net over his head and under his hat. But instead we called an exterminator.

That man sprayed the nest wearing short sleeves and shorts. These wasps only sting moving creatures. We stood still as statues with no armor and no stings.

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Family portrait

This picture was taken in about 1956. I like how happy we looked.

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Greenbelt

I spent most of my elementary years in Greenbelt, MD, the first planned community in the U.S., built during the Roosevelt years for military families. It was a great place to grow up--everything within walking distance, very little traffic but public transportation, several community events every year, and lots of kids to play with. This picture shows a station wagon and two public buses in the central area. There are hundreds more pictures in the Library of Congress archives.

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