Day 60

Feeling a bit better. Vague headache still. Gloomy outside too. Hollie is fixing the family birthday dinner. We usually go out for this celebration but she wants to do the cooking. She asked us each what we wanted; I said potato salad, Megan said steak, Chuck wants barbecued chicken, and she is making herb brochettes for herself. Megan is baking a chocolate cake. She loves her oven. I will go to church and get at least a walk around the block.

Palm writing

When I was 15 years old I came home from school to find an old beat up car in front of our house. When my parents came home from work I asked them what it was doing there. They said they bought it for me. It belongs next to the garbage can, I said. It was old and ugly, looked like the red paint had been applied with a broom, raggy top, just plain not what a young girl wants. We had private property and I learned to drive there. I had to learn to advance the spark, pull out the choke, step down hard on the starter, and other old fashioned ways to get the engine to work. Once I had to crank it. I discovered that filling the rumble seat with friends, having others sitting on top of the seats and hanging off the back, and driving all over the place was fun. It leaked in the rain and had a hand driven windshield wiper that required skill to drive and see through the rain at the same time. Then I was 16 and drove the car to the DMV to get my license only the inspector wouldn’t get in it. He told me to come back with a “real car.” After I had my license I drove it to high school but parked two blocks away and walked, as it was an embarrassment, that is, until I learned that boys thought it was neat. It was my car until I graduated when my parents bought me a used 1949 Ford and the 1929 Model A Ford was purchased by a guy who made it into a hot rod, painted it hot pink, and showed it off at car shows.

Our family of four
Our four birthdays in a row
All close together