When I was a little girl I lived on the edge of a little town called Newark, Texas.  I was the youngest of five children, and I had a great time living ‘out in the country.’ 

My oldest sister was called Ramona.  She was lovely and went to high school where she was on the drill squad.  She sewed beautifully and made her own uniform which was green corduroy and had a long full skirt.  At a football game, the girls would go out on the field and their long full skirts would swirl and float.  My big sister made me a matching outfit of green corduroy. Although I was only five, I felt so big and I thought everyone was looking at me—impressed that I was one of the team!

My only brother, at the time, was called Mickey.  As TV was just beginning, I was so proud that his name was the same as a very famous mouse who’d been starring in movies for many years.  He had a bicycle to ride to the little country school where my mother taught and coached girls’ sports.  Sometimes, it was Mickey’s job to take me to Mamaw Spraggins, the babysitter.  She lived across the highway and some railroad tracks and down on the other side of the tiny main street of our town.  Mickey would pick me up and set me on the handlebars of his bike and pedal me over in the early morning.  That was like being on a carnival ride, but I was not afraid.  He would never drop me!

I had another sister who came after Mickey, whose name was Marquita.  She was always busy planning stuff.  Once she begged to be allowed to take me to school on the day before Christmas holidays.  I was proud that my older siblings wanted me to go to school with them and excited to see what it was like.  In Marquita’s class; she’d talked the teacher into letting the children do a holiday talent show.  That was the first time I heard “All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth.”

I don't remember a lot about it, but when we first moved into our house in the country it didn't have indoor plumbing!  That meant we had to go to the bathroom down a path outside in a little house called an outhouse.  The only time I remember going in it was when my brother, Mickey, was out hoeing in the vegetable patch and I crawled over the board that blocked the front door, pulled down my panties and realized there was a snake in the outhouse!  I jumped down and tried to crawl out the door, but my panties pooled around my ankles prevented me from exiting.  Mickey heard my wails and came to my rescue.  He killed that snake with his hoe and, of course, he was even more my hero.

It must have been soon after that my daddy dragged two old buildings up to the side of the house and put in a bathroom and a large den at the back of the house.  Dad was a fire fighter and worked 24 hours on at the Fort Worth Fire Department and 24 hours off at our house.  He took care of me on his days off and I followed him around while he worked on building the extra room and bathroom.  When he needed to go to the store to purchase an item to finish a project, he would let me stand right beside him on the car seat behind his shoulder.  In those days no one had car seats for children.  I always felt so safe and special standing beside him as we drove along with the windows down and his big tanned arm resting on the window sill.  Even when he was in his nineties, he’d get a dreamy look on his face and ask if I remembered when I’d ridden up beside me—his little Tahnanbaum.

The next to youngest daughter was Melany.  She was only four years older than me, but that put her into school when I still had to go to the baby sitters.   She could make me do anything if she promised to play with me.  Of course I was just a little tag-a-long sister and not much use to her.  We took baths together in the huge clawfoot tub in our new bathroom.  With so many of us, we didn’t put much water in the tub because hot water didn't last long.  One night, we were splashing around together enjoying the luxury of a tub, when Daddy came in with a beautiful Dalmatian dog on a leash.  Now, we never had our animals in the house, but I guess Dad was so glad to be bringing us a new dog that he just burst into the house with her.

We’d had a well-loved cocker spaniel named Emper Diller who’d been known by everyone in town.  In fact he went to school sometimes with Mickey, and I can remember him attending church with us as well.  If you’ve ever been to an old-fashioned church, you know that his howls blended well with the enthusiastic singing of the rest of the congregation.  Unfortunately, Emper finally was run over by a car and never recovered.  We were all devastated.

So I think Daddy was hoping we’d all love Dottie as we’d loved Emper.  And Melany and I were ecstatic.  She was a gentle dog as I remember and this is a picture of me standing out in the yard of the Newark house with her.  (If you look closely, you might see some resemblance between this little girl and some very special grandchildren!)