Thanks to Ed for the great pics. 1989 at 413.
The hair. The glasses. The table and chairs on the porch?
Thoughts these days are with the family of Dorothy Z. - a much larger family than I knew.
I'm fortunate to have had many noble, kind, patient people of admirable character in my life. The folks that know right from wrong and walk the talk, and called me on it when I didn't. Dorothy was one. And a big reason I've not turned out to be too much of a jerk.
Many things come to mind when I think of her. Fuzzy visions and mental clips from my first decade. Complete with sounds and smells, and the emotional feel of the memory moment. Early memories are difficult to describe.
The warm gurgle and hum of the fish tank when visiting Roy & Dorothy. The soft chirp of the scanner. Roses and wood chips. Hummingbirds. Starter flowers. Tomato soup and peanut butter sandwiches. Graham crackers. Keebler crackers. And, of course, Red birthday cake.
She could shame me in a flash with a harsh tone and vigorous finger waving. A slap to the hand if some stubborn misbehaving was going on.
I remember her chuckling as she set me straight one day on something not to put in my mouth. I had to have been quite young, so it could have been anything. I don't think I was ever a booger muncher, so I'm gonna go with chewing gum that somehow escaped my mouth before being recaptured and popped back in. Dorothy was suddenly there. That's got germs, not good she instructed. I argued that they were my germs, so it was okay. (Some sort of blood type, germ type theory. Young Einstein, that was me.) But honey they're germs , she laughed, you don't want that!
Despite my carefree germ consumption, I'll move into my 5th decade this weekend. Party at Devereaux. There won’t be any desert, but the Red cake and baker will be there.
June, 1975 
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