Justice for The Snows

It was the summer of 1958.  I was staying at my Grandmother’s cottage at Lake Attistash. She was a great cook, gardener, and a business owner.  I always liked my grandma.  She spent lots of time with me as a child.  I got lots of hugs, being held and touched, much different than my mother.  

​I talked fluent English, no ga ga goo goo.  I remember being in my high chair at my mother’s house at a very young age.  I could not walk, and I could not talk.  So I listened.  My mother was talking on the phone.  I thought to myself, there are things to get done, and all she does is talk on the phone.  When I did begin to talk, it was a blue streak as my parents and their friends would tell me as I grew up.

​I was just starting to venture out in the world.  My first friends, the Bolin’s.   It was a beautiful sunny day.  I would walk next door every morning to have milk and cookies.  It was a beautiful sunny day.  I was sitting at a round white kitchen table.  Armand was to my right.  Luciene to the left.  I said, “I like the Oreo cookies better than the Hydrox cookies.  She responded, “Next time that we go to the store, we will pick some up.”

​There had been a problem with the gas water heater.  The owner of the house had tried to repair it himself.  In 1958, in Masssecheucets, there was no law to add scent to the LP gas.