The year was 1973 and I was four years old. While the country was being tossed to and fro in the waves of the Paris Peace Accords and the end of the US involvement in the Vietnam conflict, Watergate, Skylab and Roe Vs. Wade and as the population was reveling in the victories of Secretariat and Billy Jean King, the new big thing in my world was La Petite Academy where I was enrolled as a preschooler.
As a child I was an early riser. My mornings consisted of watching Underdog and The Rocky and Bullwinkle show while eating my oatmeal, cream of wheat or rice with butter and sugar while sitting on the couch with a folding TV tray in front of me. I can still remember the ivory colored tray with metallic gold colored scrollwork and scalloped edges.
After breakfast it was off to La Petite. My mom had taken a part time job at the Bergner's Department Store Distribution Center, so while she worked, I went to preschool. Most of my memories of La Petite are a blur of playing outside on the playground equipment and nap time on little cots that were stacked to the side of the room when not in use. I remember a guy that came in with a shoe nailed to a board to teach us to tie our shoes. I already knew how to tie because my Daddy taught me. I have a distinct memory of sitting outside and trying apples and peanut butter for the first time. I have a vague memory of some sort of Christmas program and an angel costume with a silver tinsel halo.
The two biggest things I remember about my birthday from that year are the big stand alone sliding board that I got and the little black long haired kitten that my sister brought home from some friends' house. He was aptly named Tigger because he loved to pounce on things, especially me. He would also hide under my sister's bed and attack her feet. Sadly, Tigger met with an early demise on the busy state highway that ran in front of our house.
We had a dog too, although she technically belonged to my sister. Sherry was a yellow colored shepherd mix. She wasn't crazy about most kids, but she protected me. I only remember her ever snapping at me once and that was my fault, not hers. Sherry was a part of my childhood until I was about 10. I can still hear my Mom or my sister calling "Sherry!" to her when it was feeding time and the cans of dog food cut open on both ends and slid out into her dish.
That summer, one of my cousins, Rhonda, who was closer to my sister's age, came to visit for a while. The two of them were always trying to scare me with crazy stories and ketchup and knives. I'm pretty sure I never fell for any of it.
I'm told that I stole the show at Vacation Bible School that summer by singing the song the loudest and boldest of everyone in my class on parent's night. I've always loved to sing, especially if there was a microphone involved.
It seems that my four-year-old self esteem was pretty well intact, well, except for one thing. One thing I could not help, but was told that I should be able to do something about. You see, I had a little bedwetting problem. I was "too big for that". "Why didn't I just get up and go? " A question that came to me often. A question for which I had no answer, only the shame of it happening and that helpless feeling of not being able to stop it from happening. It was that shameful thing that I needed to keep hidden.
I was definitely a picky eater. So much so that I was hospitalized for stomach tests to see if something was actually wrong with me. I remember having to drink those awful barium shakes and being wheeled down to x-ray in a wheel chair by someone. I remember the girl in the other bed getting popsicles because she had just had her tonsils out. I remember feeling scared and alone after my parents left for the day. The tests all came back normal and I was sent home after a few days.
And so, this was 1973, as best as I remember it.
