I am always amazed by the way the mind works, by how we can be transported into the past by a smell, an action or a thought. Recently I was driving into our nearest town and when I turned on the heat, the change in temperature caused me to cough. Then I went back in time to 1957 when our young family lived in Baltimore, Md.
My husband worked in a research lab where he was working with different chemicals and colors. The mission was to develop a technique for glazing a concrete block for a decorative appearance. You can go into any school and many buildings and see these blocks on the interior walls.
When my husband returned home after a days work his clothing held a pungent odor. He probably should have been wearing a uniform so that he could change clothing before leaving for home. His clothing had to be isolated to prevent all of our clothing from taking on this odor caused by the styrene used in his experiments.
Thinking of this time in our lives reminds me of many happy normal family incidents.
One of those involved some refugees from Hungary. These young men had left their country because of political unrest. There were several of them and they lived in our building. They all had motorcycles and they parked them in front of our building. When I passed by these motorcycles with my year old son in my arms, he would fairly leap from my arms trying to get to them. My daughter who was around four at the time, passed by without any notice at all !
She was however most interested in the books which our neighbors had. The matriarch of the family was from France and every July 14th she reminded us all that it was Bastille Day. Her name was Mrs. Napoli and her adult daughter lived with her. Her daughter worked as an air traffic controller. I well remember her speaking of the stress she experienced at her work. She had collected a set of books from her childhood, which my daughter loved. The central characters were twins and each book told about the twins living in a different country. These books were given to my daughter and she loved them. My daughter remembers them too, but alas over the years they have disappeared.
We were well known in our neighborhood as every few days my daughter would "go missing" and I would alert the neighbors Bonnie had run away. Everyone would get out and help look for her. She was three years old and would leave when I was occupied taking care of the new baby. At least on one occasion she left the apartment complex where we lived and traveled across a four lane highway. A construction crew saw her and concluded correctly that she had come from our apartments. She was returned intact by the supervisor of the project she had traveled so far to see. We were fortunate indeed that she was always found soon and unharmed.
There were many families there with plenty of children going all over so we very often had several in our home to play. I never minded for I was at ease when I knew that my two were indoors and playing happily where I could supervise.
During our time there Asian Flu was rampant. We were spared but one of our neighbors, a man, his wife and young child, all were terribly ill at the same time. No one dared enter their home but the neighbors took food and left it at their door. I do not know how we avoided having the flu as it was all around us and generally all over the country.
We had joined the near by Presbyterian Church and I taught a preschool class and had my three year old daughter in my class. On one of our family outing I had found a crysallis on a milkweek plant. I brought it home and my husband made a "home" for it where it could be observed. I knew very little about such things at that time and I took it to my class to share one of nature's fascinating occurances. I told the children that next year a butterfly would emerge. Thankfully our pastor, Tom Allen corrected me. He said it would emerge in about two weeks. And of course he was right. We were able to see this beautiful Monarch butterfly come forth with dampened wings, dry itself and prepare to fly away. I hope the children remember this incident with awe and wonder as do I.
Picnics were a common thing for us, no matter what time of year. We once had one picnic in a park on the Potomac River with our warm coats and hats on. On other picnics we would find blackberries and pick them. At one park we had our picnic and all of us went for a short walk, as we walked we remembered that I had put a chocolate pie in our basket and when we returned to our table we could have that reward. When we returned we were in for a surprise. Our pie was gone. The children thought perhaps Yogi Bear had found it. Whoever took it had a fine feast I am sure. Our spirits were bruised but not damaged. I knew it was an excellent pie and could make many more.
I am so thankful that, though I do forget where I put things sometimes, my mind can still travel back and relive some very happy times when our children were young and we all enjoyed each other to the fullest.
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