Childhood 2

Dressed as twins again; Daddy smoking a cigar, something he did about once a year.  But cigarettes, he smoked a pack a day.  I look a lot like my Dad, and am named after him.  Our nicknames are Jack and Jackie; Jack for John and Jackie for Jacqueline.  Peggy looks more like Mother, and to keep the balance is named Margaret Elizabeth after our maternal grandmother.  Who knew that Peggy was a nickname for Margaret?  Mother did not want Maggie or Margie, so Peggy it is.

 Matching dresses of a brown organza gingham, sheer enough to require a lining; my favorite dress.  Mother was a housewife, taking care of my sister and I and cooking three meals a day; Daddy worked close enough to come home for lunch.  She kept our house spic and span and washed, starched and ironed Daddy a clean white shirt five days a week.  To save money, she sewed all our dresses. 

Ocasionally Peggy and I were taken to a professional photographers studio for a more formal portrait.  Dressed in plaid, I am wearing another of Mother's creations.  My hair is naturally curly so Mother styled it in "banana curls".  My sister's hair is straight.  She always wanted hair like mine and Mother wanted that too since styling Peggy's hair was so frustrating.   

Even in the professional studio, we were dressed as twins; my sister Peggy is in a matching plaid jumper that Mother made.  My parents were forever remarking on how "cute" Peggy was, and that the studio chose Peggy's photo to display.  They never commented on my appearance.  I responded by thinking that I was unattractive.

For every birthday, Mother made a cake.  We loved watching her decorate it .  She made different colors of frosting using a few drops of food coloring and squeezed designs on the cake threw a tube with various shaped ends.  It was magical, looked fantastic and tasted wonderful.  Each cake was placed on the stool from her vanity-dresser set and Mother photographed the birthday girl standing behind it.   This is me with my seventh birthday cake.  

My third grade school photo.  After K through 2nd grade and 8 years in a two bedroom clapboard military house at Williams Air Force Base where my father had a civil service job as Chief Fire Inspector for the WAFB Fire Department, we moved to a cement block two bedroom home in Chandler.  Dad then had a drive of 8 miles to WAFB each day. 

Peggy and I loved our new home.  It seemed a step up in the world.  Our old wine mohair sofa and matching chair went well with the wine colored walls of the main living area and were a beautiful contrast to the remaining white walls.  Our floral print drapery was a thing of the past.  We now had wine colored drapery that matched the wine walls perfectly and opened with a drawn pull.  Daddy had insisted they stay with the purchase of the house.  We still had to share a bedroom but we were young enough to still not care.  Our Hudson, which was the only car Daddy would drive, had its own carport to shade it from the Arizona sun. 

Daddy got a months vacation each year and took it in August, the hottest month in the desert.  We always went to the cool pine tree country of Northern Arizona, camping in a tent and trout fishing.  Right after the move to Chandler we bought our first camp trailer which wasn't tall enough for Daddy's six feet height, but he didn't seem to care; it surpassed tent living and our first trip in it he caught the 24 inch trout that I am holding.  But what is Peggy doing with her hands clinched into fists?