I was born in Minneapolis in a hospital…which burned down in the 60’s..

 

My mother took me to her mother’s home in St Paul…pushed my 5 year  older sister out of what became my bassinet to the back, dark room…that my sister still refers to as the “rat room”….and installed me in my sister’s Very White Flanneled …..comfortable nest…. that had a wonderfully Brilliantly lit Eastern window…where I could coo and giggle under my dear parents watchful gaze…

 

I don’t remember anything but happiness in those early formative years except my older sister seemed to always scowl at me….as she looked down on me as she ate these greasy chicken bits..

 

my grandfather must have Loved freshly Squeezed Orange juice…as that is the scent I always awoke to…

 

it was a big house to my young feet…like a mysterious castle with hidden rooms and Tall ceilings …chicken blood on the maid’s quarter attic abode…that was WAY UP…with small Very steep stairs……(the story was that my sister had been given a few chicks for Easter by my grands …and my Father had to do them in)

but I don’t know ..as the live in maid disappeared about  then….they said for Milwaukee …

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