The new house was so exciting! It had paint on the outside instead of darkened blackened planking, and there was a basement and lawn and polished hard wood floors that never cricked nor squeaked with splintering. There was a picture-window permitting a view of the lazy-moving Allegheny River against the rolling Allegheny foothills. But looking in from the outside, this window permitted a view of the same home as 2 Halyday Street; several musty, saw dust filled, brown Mohair chairs heaped with colorful paraphernalia reminding one of Jemima styled cleaning ladies on their way to a laundry room.
Still another exciting difference in Reno was high school, although at first it was a near trauma, with its universally adamant prescription for an expensive wardrobe and a large allowance. Since Mom and Dad could afford me no allowance at all, and since Mom's choice of wardrobe for me from the five & ten cent store was somewhat less than mediocre, I found myself walking to school in baggy cotton skirts and baggy hose, only to face the chagrin of having to borrow a quarter from a friend for the weekly school dance.
After a few months the whole thing became easier to face. I recalled the Third Ward and found solace in realizing that we were all an integral part of a complex world, like it or not. But the world was so small until at the age of fifteen, when I was really juggled awake by the clatter of another train, the Long Island Express, as it carried Kris and me to a new home in New York.
No comments:
Post a Comment