Lady and the Tramp

 One thing I feel in remembering all this is how separated I feel from my younger siblings. We are a big family. We eat dinner together every night. We eat breakfast together every morning. We all go to school, and presumably ride the bus together. We go to church every (friggin!) Sunday together in our good clothes and shoes, all clean from our weekly baths. Mother is home all the time, except when she is volunteering--but that is much later. Yet, I find my memories to be of a lone girl who occasionally brushes up against other members of the family with drastic and unfortunate results. 

Lady and the Tramp

I was so desperate to learn to read! and so desperate to turn six years old, so I would, immediately, fully, know how to read! When I was five, anticipating this remarkable transformation, I had a vision of myself at six. I walked down the sidewalk in front of Grandma's house, the sweet gum on the street, the monkey grass covering the lawn. I was a huge segmented creature, like a giant, upright caterpillar, with six (count them! 6!!) segments indicating my six years and new life as a reader.

Before I could be allowed to read, I picked one Golden Book, and demanded that any handy adult read it to me, over and over. I memorized Lady and the Tramp, so I could open the book and "read" the first few sentences. The Darlings! what a great name for the family. I don't know how or why I chose this book, but looking back, it seems to make a kind of sense. There were no end of babies being born into my otherwise idyllic existence, to disrupt our routines and impinge on my freedom and pleasure. There was no "aunt" needed to move in, of course, because Mother certainly changed into a screaming harridan with every new addition. Muzzled. Yes, I'm sure I did feel muzzled. Certainly by the time baby Cayce was born, my questions and curiosity were unwelcome, ridiculed and shut down as abruptly as possible. And Tramp, how much of my life, starting with Daddy's return from Korea, has been spent searching for the kindly young fellow to release my muzzle? Little did I suspect, they all have their own muzzles, even if I get out of my first one.