One thing I would just as soon not have inherited: my father’s hayfever
allergies! Then there’s that sweet tooth.
My father did make at least an effort to keep in touch with me. In 1933 he
sent me a Christmas card signed simply “Daddy." At Christmas 1934, the year prior
to his death, he underlined the words “memories tender and true" in the printed verse
and signed the card “Dad" - after all, his son was now thirteen. And he may have
sensed the end.
iii - Playing and Growing
In my eleven years at the house on Baltimore Avenue, I enjoyed a happy,
active play life.
As a toddler, I had most of the usual toys, such as a kiddy car (a small tricycle
pushed with the feet), a stuffed monkey called Nip, and April, a black and white
kitten. When a couple years older, I had a dog whose name I don’t recall but which
my father said was a rat terrier.
From an early age, my first playmate to share the big Rohrer yard was our
next-door neighbor’s boy, Alan Trevaskis. Alan’s father was Dr. Richard Trevaskis,
who “brought you into this world" (Mother’s second revelation regarding my
beginnings). Alan was about a year older than I and naturally took the lead in our
relationship. I can still hear him, standing at the bottom of our back steps, singing
out, “Hey, Bill-ee." And I would run out and play whatever he decided.
Making mud pies was one of our amusements that made a lasting mark: One
day, executing my usual water gopher assignment, I tripped on the stone steps coming
out of the cellar, broke the water glass I was carrying and slashed my wrist at the base
of the palm. They carried me across the street to Doctor Koon (why not next door to
Doctor Trevaskis.), who patched me up. The scar is now quite faint, but it won’t let
me forget my first injury.
We didn’t often play in Trevaskis’s yard. It was undoubtedly discouraged
because the doctor had his office on the yard side of the residence and the sight and
sounds of kids might detract from the desired professional atmosphere. Besides, that yard
was the province of the older Trevaskis children, Ruth and Richard, who by then were
well trained. I do not imply that the Trevaskis domain was entirely off limits. I remember,
probably when I was a good bit older, calling Alan from his back steps, and going into
his kitchen for a drink of water, but not to play. (We didn’t play in our house, either.)
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