Penny Candy, Hollyhock Dolls, and Front-Porch Days

I remember the little grocery store across the street from 1015 29th Street. Just the front room of what used to be a nice home converted and very functional. Good for a loaf of bread, a quart of milk, or penny candy. I remember living between the river and the railroad tracks and hobos coming to beg. They’d jump off the railroad cars and go from door to door asking for food. Mom always gave something, but we didn’t always have that much for ourselves. I remember Grandpa picking dandelion greens that Mom would cook with bacon drippings. Not too bad tasting; sort of like collard greens. I remember River Drive. I remember Dad’s Model T Ford. He just loved cars. I remember Dad had a rabbit hutch by the garage. Seemed like that didn’t go on very long, but my memory fails on some of it. I remember hollyhocks all along the back of that old garage. We’d make dolls from the blossoms. I remember one summer I fell from my bike and really hurt my knee. The street was covered with black cinders. I put in some dreamy long days on the wood swing on the front porch, healing and cutting out paper dolls. I remember when Mom came home from the hospital after Carol’s birth. Mom was very sick, anemic, pale, and very weak for a long time after. Seemed like Grandpa was there, but only part of the time. And again, Uncle Lloyd would show up for a day or two then disappear again. Grandpa Williams and our dad didn’t really get along very well. Lots of sharp tongue between them. I remember Mom and Dad and friends playing cards (Poker, Cribbage, and 500 Rummy) on Saturday nights. THE