I remember the kitchen overlooking the backyard. I had a small table of my own. It was yellow, two chairs with red seats, and there were pictures of little Dutch children on the seat backs. I was so proud to be able to sit at my very own table and have lunch!
I had a fondness for coconut. Baker's Coconut to be exact. In a can. The only way I could reach this wonderful, chewy, sweet treat was to pull out the cabinet drawers at various widths and use them as a staircase to my beloved coconut! I'd sit on the counter with my prize... until I heard the dreaded words, "Jana, what are you doing?" As every child knows, the immediate response is always, "Nothing!" A red flag to be sure that I was up to no good. I was caught red handed! More like sticky-handed!
I remember the one bedroom's closet. Oh, how I loved to play in that closet. It seemed secure and safe. Odd how I remember that closet. On the left was a small shelf with my mom's sewing basket. She had that basket, but I never remember her sewing. Writing this, an image appears in my mind of a red, white, and black checked robe of my mom's. It's interesting to get this fleeting glimpses of so many years ago.
The living room overlooked the street. There was striped wallpaper that was burgundy, white, and silver wide stripes. That was on one wall while the other walls were the burgundy color. There was a large, low bookcase that was on the striped wall. It was painted a glossy black. On a shelf on the far right of that bookcase was a little chart made of construction paper. Each line had a special "chore" for me to do. Items a little girl could do, eat breakfast, lunch, dinner, pick up toys, mind mommy and daddy, you get the idea. I got colored stars for completing my task. I loved getting the gold stars so I could show my dad when he came home from work. I dreaded the red stars meaning I hadn't been good. I still don't like red gummy-backed stars.
My prized possession was a toy accordion. I loved that toy, but could not pronounce that word at all. To me, it was an accordeen. Dad worked nights at Libby-Owens-Ford, a glass factory in Rossford, Ohio. During the days, he tried to sleep. It was hard to do when I decided to serenade him with my accordion. I had been playing with the accordeen outside. Mom hurried me up the stairs to the apartment so quickly that I couldn't retrieve my beloved accordeen from under the steps. There is was, in the beautiful Lilies of the Valley, getting soaked. It was ruined! My accordeen! Funny. No one ever got me another accordion. I guess dad just didn't like my music.