I was four years old as I stood inside the doorway of the kitchen quietly listening to the defying tones of my eldest sister as my parents pleaded with her to let them raise the child so she could continue her music career. She was being groomed by important people who were helping my parents pay for her schooling.

When I was five,Mom and I traveled to New London,CT.so she could take care of my sister after the birth of her only son of ten children. Her husband was in the navy. At that time,he was only allowd to be a cook on the sub because he was black. He was a very tall man with chestnut skin and wavey black hair from Texas and when he cooked breakfast,it was wonderful. It was the first time I had eggs with cheese and grits with butter. Mom sent me there for the next four summers. When they came to visit, they would take me back with them and put me on a bus home where Mom and Dad would be waiting for me at the bus stop infront of the North Church in the town square. That was the first time;after that my sister went with me.
The attic was off limits. It was Dads domain but I was bound and determined to go up there to find the paper (I was told by my siblings) that said I was adopted. Dad kept a lock on the door but sometimes it wasn't locked. The first time I opened the door I quickly closed it when I saw the shot gun hanging on the door.

Portsmouth use to be a navy town and when the subs came in the black sailor were pointed in the direction of our house and Dad would stand at the top of the hill with the shotgun (empty) and tell the four of five young men at the bottom of the hill to go away and leave his daughters alone.

I worked up the courage to get pass the shotgun and of course I never found the papers but I found a new world of discoveries. So I went to Mom and asked her outright. She took me in her arms and told me to get those foolish thought out of my head. Besides, she made it very clear that I was a child after my own fathers heart.

If things got to out of hand, Mom would quietly tell me to get my coat and meet her upstairs in her room where she would comb my hair as I continuely asked,"where are we going?"
We went to the movies and the movies opened up a new world for me to retreat to in my day dreams. King Kong was my frist memory.I cried so bad when he was being short down;Mom had to drag me home because I was so overcome with grief.
Mom always instilled in us that we were human beings frist. Until it was put clearly in my face,I never thought I was defferent so I with all the other children in in my world had the cinderella-snow white syndrome. Before we got our first TV(Mom bought off one of those truck that came from the city) we sat around the radio and listen to amos and andy,the whistler,lone ranger,the shadow and soap oprahs.
When Mom was home, the radio stayed on all day and I learned the words to all the music. When Mom put me on stage at the ripe old age of six I found the one area of my life in which I was in control of my life and everyone around within hearing of my voice because I always got a standing ovation. In the real world I slowly retreated within myself and clung even tighter to Moms apron strings.

I'm always asked how old was I when this happened of that happened. I always answered, seven. It was the age I remembered being when I went to my mother and told her about being molested,when in fact it was happening for years but, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Mom and Dad were hard core Republicans until Kennedy. This was mostly due to mom because she was a free thinker and encouraged us to be the same. Dad on the other hand was very proud and he instilled in us a fierce independence. I walked through life with the I can do it myself and I don't need you attitude when someone hurt me. He also made it clear that we were to stand together at all times and NEVER tell on anyone. This was enforced by the one who told getting punished as well as the one who did it. If the one who did it did not come forward, everyone got punished. I know this seems harsh but after growing up I understood that dad had to do the only thing he knew to do in order to maintain order while he was at work. Mom was just to soft hearted and she married so young. Her parents had high expectations of her and her sister. They even went to finishing school. Mom was always correcting our English. She didn't have much success at stopping us from saying r at the end of our er words. Dad had to teach her how to cook and for a long time washed and combed and braided the older girls hair. Mom was a good cook but when Dad cooked, my mouth started wartering from the wonderful smells of fried chicken,fried fish, hot bread, corn bread, etc.
Our house was always buzzing with musical sounds and smells from the kitchen and people talking. Someone was always practicing an instrument on the other side or warming up their vocals. My middle sister went to the Boston Conservatory of Music. Her soprano gave me goose bumps and chills up and down my spine. My older brothers and sisters were always coming home with the latest records which consisted mostly of swing and jazz. I promised myself that when I grew up, I would never listen to any more jazz. When Billie Holiday died, the whole house stopped buzzing for a few days. I got so I couldn"t think or sleep without those noises. When there were disagreements, it still sounded like music because everyone argued in the key they sang in.

Every day of my adult life, I wake with the thought of how much I love my siblings. There was a time when I did not like most of them and they felt the same about me. When it came time to sit my sister, brother and me, everyone would argue about who didn't want to watch me. Mom and dad were easy on me. I know now it was because they were tired by the time I came along. The elder children were not impressed. I was prone to tantrums. My big debut in public was during the filming of the movie I was in; It was my best work to date.
It was one of those summer mornings were you woke up hot. Mom, my brother, sister and the middle sister walked up town to the hotel where they were shooting a portion of the movie.
Most of my tantrums were triggered by one or more of my siblings.So, all the way up, my middle sister {She was everything you may know or heard about the middle child} would not stop telling me that I better behave. Just when I was beginning to get tired, the hotel came into site.
I don't remember how many times they had to holler cut but on que, I would scream to the top of my lungs every time the lead actor walked toward me and my sister. Not wanting to take me out of the scene, they waited until I fell asleep on my sisters' shoulder. I didn't get in trouble because we weren't suppose to be there anyway. My sister put the fear of god in me after that and for years I feared and respected her. When she married our relationship turned for the better.

Mom and dad were creatures of habit. You never had to guess their comings and goings. Church on sunday-Mom was the head organist and choir director. There were no elders in our church,just deacons. My dad was the head deacon and sunday school teacher. I loved it when he taught, because he made the bible stories come to life and we were a captive audience. My elder brothers and sisters made up most of the choir. No matter how late they got in the night before, my dad would burst into their bedrooms and shout "RISE AND SHINE!!!,THANK GOD FOR ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL MORNING." Off to church we went.
We walked everywhere. Very few people had cars back then. Mom and dad never drove and to date, two of my siblings still do not drive.
Tuesdays, they went to prayer meeting;thrusday,choir practice and once a month town meeting and the the meeting house nearest our house. Everyone belonged to a club and they went to that meeting once a week. I bagan to learn the days of the week by what we had for supper.
Tuesday was the worst for me and everyday I would ask mom if it was tuesday yet. I would beg mom not to leave me. Once they were out
of site, someone would order me into the house. There was a huge closet off the dining room that collected stuff. I was put in there and sat in the dark for hours and then the door would open and someone would tell me to go to bed. Sometimes I got locked in my parents room and I would hide under the bed until I was let out. Not knowing for sure if I was going into the closet or up stairs,I would put matches, candles, coloring books and what ever else I could find to help me pass the time and when mom said "yes,today is tuesday" I would gather up my stuff and put everything in the closet.

My mothers heart was always on her sleeve. with Dad we knew there was a time to approach and not to approach. In most matters he had the last word. I only heard them argue about bills; on every other matter they were pretty much in sync.
I adored my dad and he adored me. He even had a special name for me. We weren't allowed to leave the top of the hill let alone the yard. We started spending more time in the yard after the rooster was put to rest. I thought that the chickens were pets and there were times when I didn't have to beg mom to let us play on the other side of the house. On those days a chicken would disappear and we were told that it went to heaven. {where ever that was} One day when mom so easily allowed us to play on the other side of the house, I decided to look out the window that looked out into the yard. Until the story of that day was told and as everyone laughed at the telling, I didn't realize that the screams I heard were coming out of my mouth. After that, there were no more chickens and the rooster who thought he was a dog, would chase people out of the yard and sometimes down the hill, was served up to the family who refused to eat him and dad had to give the cooked bird to another family. Now we could play in the yard anytime we wanted and out front were we played hopscotch, redlight, aggies and simon says.
The best part of the day was supper time because mom would let us go to the bottom of the hill and wait for dad. As soon as I got him in my sights I would run to fast I could hear and feel the wind as it rushed past my face. I would jump into his arms, he would put me on his shoulders and grab my sisters hand and home we went. He always smelled of fresh cut wood. He was a finish carpenter and to this day I still see his work on some of the most beatiful old homes in town.
I recently learned a black museum was established in my home town with little or no mention or my family. If I should be blessed to write a book, all that will change.
No one was allowed to eat until dad came home. If he was late, mom wood allow my sister, brother and me to eat. Dad was a man of pride and somewhat complex. Mom knew him quite well and sometimes his word, respectfully, wasn't always final. Case in point; I mentioned a movie. The producer come to our family first and dad said no but mom got some of us in anyway. Until a few days ago, I thought I was about five or six when the move was made. I looked it up on line and found that it came out in 1949 and I was born in 46. I remember everything and I was only three.