Well, a little girl, I had stomach problems. I guess I had been born with them. Mom said they had to make a formula for me because I couldn't tolerate milk. She boiled barley and then strained it through a cheese cloth. I don't know what additives they put with it, but I tolerated it very well. As I grew up, they tried to get me to eat certain things that would help with my digestion. I just remember her saying they wanted me to eat celery, but couldn't get me to have anything to do with it. They finally played a trick on me. Mom would clean the celery and cut it into small pieces and put it on a plate in the middle of the dining room table. They left one of the chairs pulled out, just enough to tease me to climb, which I did with or without much trouble. I would climb on the chair and then on the table and set in the middle of the table eating the celery until it was all gone. Neat huh?!
I remember that meal time was pretty special at our house. We always had dinner together at the same time everyday. I was a picky eater, which would change almost daily, as I recall. I have never been able to tolerate liver, which the rest of the family liked. When Mom would fix it, they always had something else for me on that night. I know for breakfast I wouldn't eat anything but the white of the egg. So Dad would eat the yolk. Then I decided I didn't like the white of the egg anymore, so Dad would eat the white and I would eat the yolk. Then I wouldn't eat beans of any kind, and then I liked all the beans. It seems so strange to me now, because I eat just about anything, well not parsnips or rudebegas. Both root vegetables, you rarely see anymore. I would eat turnips if they were raw, but not if they were cooked. I don't think you see many turnips either. They are more like raddishes to me when they are raw, but too mushy when they were cooked.
I loved to play by myself. Would spend hours playing school, or office. After I grew a little older, I fancied myself as a designer and use to make clothes for my paper dolls and color them with crayolas. Pretty snappy some of the outfits I put together. Funny how I can remember some of them even to this day. Yet I don't fancy myself as much of an artist. I would love to know how to paint. Well I have done a few things, but by copying what someone else has done first. If I would have had the chance, I think I would like to have taken some classes in painting. My idea of a great day is finding an old barn out in a field that is near collapse. Then set in the sun and paint what I saw. I just love Old Barns. Don't know why, but they fascinate me.
I remember thinking if the "boys" could do it, I should be able to do it too. That was a fools folly. I never was as smart as either of my brothers, or as inventive. I always wanted to be in the middle of everything they were doing, and that was not where I really needed to be. However, I loved it - they hated it, and me.
As I set here thinking over these things, it dawns on me there were so many things we had or enjoyed as kids, that none of you will ever know anything about, unless I take the time to recall them and leave a memory for you. I think I will do that. Well not right this minute, maybe at another time. I am too tired right now. Later -
written at 3:30 a.m. on Friday August 21, 2009
by: Eileen Rosenberg
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