WISHED I HAD A PLAYMATE

Well, well, well, wishes do come through.
A new neighbor moved into our yard! My wish for a playmate was granted. I am pleased. Betty, was a bit younger than me. She was around 6 yrs.old. I was 7. We had lots of fun, together.

We even played house and school. We played doctor with our dolls. Mine was a blown-up Santa clause. Remember my doll, Baby, was destroyed?

We even experimented, playing out the roles of mommy and daddy. That ended abruptly, due to my own natural response. I felt a shock and jumped! Frightened, we vowed to never do that again.

That afternoon, my paternal gramma, and a couple of the neighbors, got together to loudly discuss what happened to two littler girls who played mommy-daddy games. But, they played with a broom, and wound up in the hospital.

Looking back, I can see that they watched us play and just wanted to scare us.
(see upcoming book for details)

A LESSON IN LIFE

Living as a small child in Jamaica with my paternal grandmother was a lesson in life I will never forget. I learned certain truths. What was someone Else's was not mine to give away or share.
I learned to respect other people's property. I learned it the hard way the first time.

Grandmother and I had a pleasant visit with our next door neighbor. Eating, drinking and sharing laughter with simple conversations. The news neighbors discussed and so forth.

The night passed swiftly for the first time in a long time. Remember, we only had a radio to ease the stillness of our evenings back then. For me, a seven year old without a playmate the woman's visit was a relief.

To show my gratitude, I did the unthinkable. As our friendly neighbor was about to leave for the night, she commented on a picture on our wall above the bed. "That is a beautiful picture, Ms. Spence." That was all I needed to hear when I responded, "I will give it to you since you like it."

Unaware that my grandmother did not care to share, I was shocked to receive a fine flogging that lasted forever, it seemed. When she was through, I had the awful task of going next door to bring back her picture. "Go now and bring back my picture!"

No sooner than after one knock, the door opened. "Here, take it back, I heard everything." I didn't have to explain. The wooden walls were thin.

Once a sharing child, always a caring adult. I still share. That won't change.

http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.yardflex.com/archives/crying.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.yardflex.com/archives/003222.html&usg=__Ilw3mqEOg51qMcq4oSfawDlRo30=&h=321&w=400&sz=25&hl=en&start=577&um=1&tbnid=6ahZoJkE4DzIMM:&tbnh=100&tbnw=124&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dcrying%2Bchild%26ndsp%3D20%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26start%3D560%26um%3D1

SPOTLESS OR ELSE!

OUR HOME WAS IMMACULATE.

I received one of my most memorable beatings one day when I decided to do chores after playing.

It was a beautiful day. Trees swaying in the sun. Birds softly chirping. When after-school neighbors gathered together just to play. Not one of us was older than age eight. I must have been about 7 years old.

We had a good time playing shop and house. We even found a good sized box to use as the bus.

Each of us took turns as the bus-driver who pulled the box from one imaginary bus stop to another.

We bought and sold dirt goods, from our friendly shop keeper and paid for it with little stones. I even had my turn as shop-keeper. I wrapped the imaginary rice and flour in the brown paper we tore from brown paper bags. All this time we played in the big shady back yard, until late in the day.

Finally, reality took over when I heard my sister, Yvonne, calling. "Dorreth!!!!!!!!!"

That beating changed my life. From that day forward, Cleaning my home came first and all other activities took a back seat.

If only we could still pay for real food and services with stones, life would be just dreamy!

A bit rough riding around on our bottoms inside a card-board box from place to place, though (LOL)!