A pad is a strange thing to hold onto from childhood…

The Point Ration Book & Token Pocket belonging to my grandparents…

My father kept very orderly records.

Now that I’m old (88) and wise…

My mother, a glamorous woman…

I remember when I could fit through the gate at my grandmother’s townhouse…

I wind and set the brass ship’s clock.

When I was nine and actively collecting rocks…

We hadn’t met yet, but she was on our swing set…

I gave this music box to my younger sister…

Nestled in my furred purse are a necklace, two rings, a bear's claw…

Up until I was 14, before we moved to Southern California…

At age four, I was a serious Cubs fan.

On occasional Saturdays…

I was three in 1938 and sleeping in a crib…

Back in the day when the Cubs were on Good Ole Channel 9…

I’m an avid reader…

I remember my grandmother’s backyard.

Pictured is the candy dish of a woman born one-hundred-twenty-years ago…

This story has its genesis in 1986…