Sisters’ Comfort in Kindergarten

The fifth daughter. The seventh and last child.

ON MAY 26TH, 1945 I WAS BORN. I was the last of seven children. The baby of the family. I was put in a baby bed in Mom and Dad’s room and slept there for the next six years. The very first memory I have is hazy. I’m sitting on a blanket spread in the front yard under a big tree, playing school with my sisters. The next memory is vivid. I’d started Kindergarten at Roosevelt grade school. I cried every day asking to see one of my sisters, Diana, Delores or Carol, who would have to come to my room to comfort me. I finally adjusted, but I still missed being with them. Another early memory is the night Diana came home from the hospital. I remember feeling very shy with her but also very jealous. She was getting all the attention.