Do you remember Andy Trushel, Dr. Trushels big grey Persian cat?
When I was eight years old, Ginger and I were playing in my front yard when Barbara came back from a marshmallow roast at Tricia’s. Not knowing that the white stuff in Barbara’s hair was marshmallow, Ginger exclaimed, “You’ve got bird ‘poop’ in your hair!” Barbara burst into tears and ran screaming into her house. We heard Gertrude coming out so we scurried into the bed of phlox in our yard and hid. She knew we were hiding and said, “You’ve got to come out and say you’re sorry to Barbara.” We held our breath and didn’t come out. Gertrude returned home – and Ginger and I crawled to safety. Christmas at the Methodist church meant sitting in the first four pews waiting your turn to recite your little Christmas verse – only mine wasn’t little, not for a four- or five-year-old. Gertude told Mom she gave me a longer verse because I had such a good memory and asked Mom to help me with it. I still remember part of it and wonder if it was written by a well-known poet: Hang up the baby’s stockin
