A Million Little Pieces Of My Mind

I remember little of kindergarten except that two nuns taught us. And I remember Flora, who didn't do well in class but who had one skill we all admired: During recess, she would climb to the top of the chain link fence, where she would perch while peeing in her pants. By the end of the year there was a vertical yellow streak staining the chain link.

Mom walked me to school the first day. After that, I walked with other kids in the neighborhood going to the same school, which was only a couple blocks from the house. This was the first time I was allowed (indeed, required) to cross a street on my own. There were no crossing guards in those days, of course. But the bigger kids always watched out for the younger ones.

I walked to school, and in the afternoon I walked home. This walk involved passing the corner store, which as far as I remember was primarily a candy store. I often had a penny or two with me, and could buy candy. A penny bought a Tootsie Roll. But once the novelty of being able to make my own purchases wore off, I more or less stopped. My love affair with candy was over.

Of course, while I was at kindergarten, my sisters were not. Mom took this photo of Mary Joan and Louise having lunch without me while I was away.