Jeannette and Everilde, 1920
My first memories of childhood go back to age three. Having probably been read “Red Riding Hood” the night before I awakened screaming in fear of a seven-foot wolf lurking behind the colorful Indian blanket used in lieu of a door in my room. I also remember burning with fever in a dark room when I had measles.
When I was four my sister Doris was born and we went camping in the deep woods in Gales Creek
We had to drive across a stubble field and ford a stream. The ford touring car had a “running board” on each side and my dad had built two black vinyl covered boxes on either side, one to store food and one for blankets. When evening came Dad put pillows and blankets in one box and told me that was my bed and baby sister would sleep between my parents (the front seat turned down to make a bed). This was all well and good as I watched the moon and thousands of stars and listened to the babbling brook wending its way over the rocks through camp among the whispering tall firs.
However, later when the moon had waned and it was very dark I awakened to the sound of rustling in the bushes and saw two bright shining eyes peering out. Bears were something I knew of through nursery rhymes so I lay there until daylight, afraid to cry out for fear of the bear discovering me outside the car in the black box. That same summer my cousin Bob and his dad killed three mountain lions for bounty in the area; I suspect that is what I saw.
Later, I didn't like my sister very well and that feeling continued for many years because I felt she was favored, especially when she had a first-year birthday “party” and I could not remember ever having one (although I might have because at that age I only remembered scary things and when I was punished).
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