CHILDHOOD MEMORIES

Hello, Fan Club Members---No story Tuesday as I'll be winging it to FL-

Possibly I won't have time to write Wed. either--but return I shall. In the meantime, I had combined a few honest to goodness childhood stories that will let you young people see what  you have missed.

 

Ballow's Delicatessen was busy from the first day it opened for business, thanks to Mr. Ballow who yelled and raved an awful lot. He fought with all his countermen, wisely located his wife behind the cash register. AND he made probably the best corned beef sandwich in Baltimore. The store was long and narrow and had 'to go' cases to the right. When the boss told his men to straighten the smoked fish, they lined the revelation, whities and herring in perfect  rows, tempting all customers. Lox, both belly and nova, was sliced to order on the back wooden ledge. His loud commands, 'Slice the brisket thicker. Lay it out right !' made the clerks wince and get angry, but they learned to do things the way he wanted-the correct and proper way. On top of the counters were my kind of goodies, high tubs of halavah (chunks missing) sat with a long sharp knife sticking out the top, gallon jars of Indian nuts and polly seeds and firm, sour,  pickled onions. This was my heaven.

Near the grill stood the pickle barrels, half and well-done, with a long fork that almost nobody bothered to use. Reaching in was 1/2 the goodness.

The time Mama pulled out a pickle AND at the same time a diamond ring made her almost famous. I heard her tell Daddy about it as they examined the ring carefully, Mama a little more so than Daddy. In a matter of minutes the two of them went back to the store. Mrs. Ballow, sat in her usual spot and asked Mama what she had forgotten. Mama blurted out the story of her find, yet avoided giving a description of the ring. But Mrs. Ballow knew what it looked like--exactly. It was undeniably hers.

 

She was so happy to get it back and Mama was delighted to be the honest finder.

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"Ma, she's doing it again! Ma!' Mama came running to shoo Rose away and dry my reddened eyes. My hand hurt where my sister bent my fingers back as far as she could while I squirmed and kicked. That time, I got her good, right on her ankle.

I did an awful lot of things that got her mad. She hated me, especially when she had to help Mama and I sat on the floor in front of the radio from 5 to 6 every evening and listened to my programs. Orphan Annie, Buck Rogers, Jack Armstrong, all needed me. I needed them. I had to decode a message with my new ring; had to find out what Punjab was up to; had to know if  Buck reached Mars while Rose, Rose had to set the table. If Mama wanted the garbage out, Rose was handy. She wasn't as smart as I was about those things.

If I bit my fingernails, which I did as far as I could, she took off one of the gold stars I had earned on my chart. Sister, dear Sister, wanted me to be as good, as neat, as she was, so on a piece of cardboard, she made columns of Dos and Don’ts and hung it on our shared small closet door. Gold stars were best, blue barely o.k. Some days I ate whatever Mama gave me without an argument and once in a while I hung up my clothes without being told. My cut-outs laying around bugged her and I learned to put them away. A gold star was mine if I went to bed when told the first time. Her box of gold stars lasted for months.

She was so jealous of me and I of her. After all, she had a back brace and got lots of Mama's attention. She had eye glasses and Daddy wouldn't get me a pair. Besides she had such pretty, curly brown hair and a cute little rose-bud mouth while I had freckles and red hair.

 

I guess Rose really wasn't such a bad sister after all.

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Fortunately, my long winter underwear was already on when snow fell in early Oct. The faster the flakes swirled, the harder I shoveled. Daddy's steps must be clean and a path kept open for his patients, I decided. If anyone slipped, it would be on Buster's or Shirley's pavement, not ours. Wearing my heavy rust colored coat, leggings and a hat strapped under my chin, I barely felt the cold.

 

Galoshes, black and a size too big, kept my feet warm and dry. Only my fingers

and Mama knew it was time for me to go inside. When finally I obeyed, I entered the vestibule and tried to take off my frozen overshoes but couldn't unbuckle them. Mama did it for me and then gently rubbed my hands. In a small basin of warm water she soaked them until they started to tingle, burn, come back to life. What would I do without my Mama?

The next snow time I was a month older and much, much smarter. I wore woolen gloves and, with Roz and Stanley, shoveled pavement after pavement all day long and earned a lot of money--one dollar each !

As tired as I was, after supper when my gloves had dried and hardened on the radiator, I got around to doing Daddy's sidewalk and didn't charge him at all.