My earliest memory of Papa.

Some of you may recall Papa and Grandmother's home in Hermosa Beach, California referred to as the Beach. You only had to say, the Beach and any of the family and close friends, knew you were speaking of Grandmother and Papa's home. This small beach house with it's red brick front yard and oval shaped cut out in the center flower bed was filled with plants.  Just one step up, led you on to Papa's porch that often smelled of turpentine, warm sun and nestled with white wicker furniture. More often than not, you would be greeted by Ripper their Siamese cat, on a leash at the end of Papa's chaise lounge and of course, Papa.

By the time I was born, Papa was 81 years old and had been retired for a while. I think the front porch was his sanctuary away from all the women in the family. And here I was all of 3 years old maybe, sitting in the rocker next to Papa. I remember I was so tiny that my feet just hit the edge of the cushion, but I felt so grown up, because I was sitting with Papa. But really probably made me fell so grown up is that my younger sister, Kathy was crying in the house. We could hear her through the screen and Papa got up and said, into the screen, I don't hear anything now do I? This was his way of saying, you had better be quit, he had had enough. WOW! I was so glad it was not me.