Ed told me the temperature for this day in 1936, the year I was born, was 12 degrees, a record low.
Burrrr. I’ll bet my mother had me bundled up in our big drafty house without central heating. (“What’s that?” we would have asked.) Or perhaps she moved the bassinet in by the warm wood-burning stove. I would have been only a month old. Hopefully my 2- and 4- and 6- and 8-year old brothers and sisters would have been playing around the stove and maybe making pictures by scraping ice off the windows with their fingernails. Jack Frost would have paid a visit during the night. Let’s see, Shirley and Lucy would have been in school. I hope they dressed warmly as they trudged up the hill to the school house. There would be no car pool for them. We had only one vehicle (if that) and Daddy would have had the pickup out to the herd. Besides that, Mama didn’t drive.
Our high today will be 64. Low 41. I hung the clothes out on the line barefoot, leaving the sliding doors wide open while I was out in capris and short sleeves. Ed and I are just heading out for a trike ride. We may start out with a light jacket just because it’s November but we’ll probably take it off before we get home.
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Lynn, Lucy, Jeanette, Shirley, DeLoy (two dolls) Jeanette 6 months  |
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| Jeanette |
“You would have been a cute little baby then,” Ed continues.
“Yes, I was cute.”
“Well, you’re not now.”
POW!
POW!
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