Childhood

I remember as I laid in my mother's bed on a Sunday morning a black cat ran into the house and jumped in my mother's bed with me. I will never forget that morning because that was the morning that my sister Ella Mae broke me from drinking a baby bottle and mine you I was five years of age. Ella was able to to this because she poured turpentine in my bottle and rinsed it out and then she poured a can of Pet Milk right on top of that terrible smell,and needless to say but that did it for me and I never wanted a baby bottle again.

It was a little harsh but very necessary. I was good at finding ways to get my bottle filled. I can remember walking down the street with my clabber filled bottle and my sash ties for my dress not tied in a bow but dragging and dirty on the ends. I walked all the way to the corner store where my father had an account with the elderly white store owner. I'd would reach up high and put by bottle on the counter. He would greet me and take my dirty bottle and rinse it out. Then he would fill it with a whole can of Pet Milk and put it on my fathers tab. You know the rest,me walking back home,with my head high drinking out of my bottle.