The rest of the weekend in those first few years in Wenonah was bliss. I had yet to get chores assigned to me and my world revolved mostly around my family. I spent many hours just playing in the house with my brothers or watching tv. I can't even tell you what we did. Explored the dark basement, climbed the tree behind the garage, played catch with my father. Not much. No organized ball, no work, no anxieties to speak of.
Many weekends were spent at my Grandmother Glading's. She lived in a suburb of Philadelphia in a nice little house with my Aunt Gersh (short for Gertrude). For a while my Uncle Al and Aunt Gert were also both there though they ultimately moved away as they grew up. This was heaven for me and for my brothers. They doted on us. We got to eat good food. I have a feeling my parents packed us away so they could go have fun but who cares.
We got to stay up late and drink a half a Piels and eat ham and cheese and watch Mike Hammer.
Oh joy. We explored their attic and played in the back and half listened to the alien conversations of adults. My Aunt Gert brought home a boyfriend once who was black. He was from Tanganyika. His name was Ramesh. He was alien and spoke differently and fascinated us.
I never thought how he might have felt or how my grandmother felt. We wanted to hear about lions.