The Age of Reason or What I Knew at Seven

I knew the names of all the flowers in the garden on Lancaster Street.

I knew Eisenhower would be a great president because my parents said so, and also because he said he'd end the war in Korea.

I knew the words to "Jesus Loves Me," "A You’re Adorable," and “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah."

I knew to wait until my mother finished reading McCall's before I cut out the Betsy McCall paper dolls at the back.

I knew that someday the Russians might drop a bomb on us but if we knelt under our desks we were safe.

I knew that the corn that grew on Sy Kervick's farm at the end of the street would be ripe and sweet in August.

I knew the way my father always tapped his Chesterfield on the horn of the Chevrolet just before he lit it.

I knew that my cousin Bonnie and I would always be together on Thanksgiving and Christmas.

I knew Uncle Arthur and Aunt Corinne would travel on the railroad all the way from Pasadena, California, to visit us every fall.

I knew that my father and grandfather had built the little house on Allen Street where I used to go to visit before my grandmother died.

I knew that as much as I loved my grandmother and grandfather, I was a bit scared of their dog Freckles.

I knew the smell of Dr. Leff's office where I had to go for allergy shots because it reminded me of when I went there to have my tonsils removed.

I knew the sounds that came from that from the little red radio above the stove:

       

    the crack of Ted Williams' bat

           

            the songs of Eddie Fisher, Patti Page, Rosemary Clooney

            

           news reports from Carl Desuze and Lowell Thomas

I knew the day I received Patsy the cat was the happiest day of my life.