Breakfast With Barbie

Mother’s house was bedlam the morning after Daddy died.  Someone made a quick trip to the store for breakfast fixings for Cox’s Army while the rest of us pulled the house back together.  The term “quick trip” was relative, since the nearest grocery store was twenty-two miles away. It was a mess since we’d had to find beds for fourteen the night before,

Breakfast With Barbie

Mother’s house was bedlam the morning after Daddy died.  Someone made a quick trip to the store for breakfast fixings for Cox’s Army while the rest of us pulled the house back together.  The term “quick trip” was relative, since the nearest grocery store was twenty-two miles away. It was a mess since we’d had to find beds for fourteen the night before,

My Own Circus (Kathleen’s Memoirs of The Great Depression)

Illustration by Kathleen Swain.  Story by Linda Bethea.

One warm spring day as the sun beamed brightly in the open window, Miss Billie read a story about Billy Boy and the Buffalos.   I loved to hear her read but was distracted by a couple of flies who had slipped in and were buzzing a vase of daffodils on the ledge.   Almost hypnotized by the droning, I caught an inkling of faraway music on the breeze.