Utica

I stood at the head of the 2nd grade class as the teacher introduced me as the new girl. That city school had a different feel and I never quite felt comfortable there. I remember my 3-ring binder being full of narrowly-lined white paper and my pencils sharpened and ready. I am trying to remember what we studied that year but all I can picture are brightly colored macaroni Christmas ornaments.

We rented a house near the school, on Kenyon Court, so I could walk there and home. My brother and I had baby sitters and played after school with the neighborhood kids. We built elaborate obstacle courses in the muddy back yard. The Utica Club beer factory was just down the street, and we would sometimes head down there on a Saturday for one of their regular tours to give my mom a break. My mom recently told me that the family next door were Born Again and she became alarmed when I began drawing pictures of God in my free time.

For fun our family would go skiing at Snow Ridge. The others had learned to ski in Switzerland and I was just trying to keep up, as usual. I would bomb down the slopes hoping not to fall. I remember eating our home-made peanut butter sandwiches and peeling oranges in the lodge. One day I proudly announced that it was my mom's birthday and she was 40. She was not happy with me.

My sister was a counselor and avid horsewoman at Holiday Hill camp in Craftsbury Commons, Vermont. After 2nd grade I got to accompany her to camp for part of the summer while my brother went to Boy Scout camp. That summer we were all away, my mom got a new job far away in Northampton, Massachusetts and we moved so suddenly and quickly after camp that I never said goodbye to my best friend.