Life lessons learned from visiting teacher still resonate

It was a delicious sort of early Saturday morning, when the temperature was just the right sort of hot, when big leaves of summer hung over our house on Carlisle Avenue, and shadows formed their lacy patterns on the front porch as the sun filtered around the fancy spindles.

Just coming down the stairs from my bedroom to join Mother for breakfast, I stopped at our front door to look out on the porch and our block. All was quiet, but soon piano students would be heard from Mrs. Barden’s across the street. Neighborhood children would be riding down the sidewalks on their bikes. The colorful cars of the 1950s days would be passing by.

It was a delicious feeling to sit with Mother in our old kitchen, enjoying toast piled high with cinnamon and sugar. (And perhaps my father, already out on errands, would soon bring us raspberry “bismarks” from Lincoln

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