Wednesday, October 6, 2010


Excerpt from A Beggars Purse, chapter 1...

I would scoot my chair up to the red Formica kitchen table, as close to my grandpa as I could possibly be, and watch him devour the feast.  My breakfast consisted of a warm cup of coffee with two heaping teaspoonfuls of sugar and half a cup of milk.  Mind you, I was only eight years old.
     The red Formica table sat on its stylish chrome legs under a huge window about the size of a sheet of plywood that faced out onto what we called the playing field.  Our refrigerator stood like a knight in shining armor against the back wall of the kitchen.  To the right of the fridge was our back door.  The back door had a window in it so my grandma could see who was standing on the back porch when someone knocked on the door.  The window had what I called a secret screen...

As a child, what was your fondest memory of the house you grew up in?

My Grandfather Mac and me (the apple of his eye) 1951

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