One Block Over

I think about Walnut Street pretty often, seeing as how it was only one block over from Grand Avenue, where I grew up. Walnut Street held way more fascination for me than Grand ever did.

One of my best friends, Mary Mahoney, lived on Walnut. She was the oldest of seven girls and her mother taught me how to sew on a sewing machine when I was in the fifth grade, but that was before Mrs. Mahoney (who sewed one entire outfit per day since she had seven daughters to keep in Easter dresses) sewed right through her own finger with the machine needle and made me doubt her competence.

I didn't sew much after that.

My Girl Scout leaders, Mrs. Sparks and Mrs. Hymer, both lived on Walnut. They were short, middle-aged blondes with pixy cuts and stylish clothing which may or may not have been custom-made by Mrs. Mahoney--I guess I'll never know.

We had Scout meetings at Mrs. Sparks' place, and she presided over me completing enough badges to fill a sash, making me feel like a plump, green, miniature Miss America: the Cooking badge, Books, Crafts, Sewing (thanks to Mrs. Mahoney), Knitting, Outdoor Life, Music, Theater, and the most coveted of all for Catholic Girl Scouts, the Marian Badge. Devotion to the Virgin Mary is not without its rewards.

Later, when I was twelve or so, Mrs. Sparks started sellling Elegance make-up door-to-door out of a naughahyde bag, and I became one of her sales representatives. I bet I earned eleven dollars or so before I decided Walnut Street ladies must not be the Elegance Cosmetics type.

My very first experience with Walnut was when my new seven-year-old twin friends Maureen and Marian Smith turned down the street to take the shortcut through the Scanlon's backyard in order to get to their own house on Grand Avenue. This would have been OK, except that it was my first day at St. Elizabeth's School, and Mo and May were supposed to help me find my way home. Their mom told them so.

(We didn't have a car back then. My mother and father couldn't drive and besides, I was the oldest and my mom was busy with all those little kids. I walked a lot.)

I didn't dare turn down Walnut Street with the twins, though they egged me on to do it. "It's OK. We do it all the time. We jump over the flowers and climb the fence and then watch out for the dog who bites and then we're there."

If I followed them, I'd have to jaywalk across Grand to get to my house, and I was only allowed to cross at corners. My mother had told me to keep walking until I saw the house on the corner with the pink paint, and to cross there, turn, and walk three houses till I came to mine. Since there were no other pink houses, that's how I would find Grand Avenue.

By the time I'd walked the long block alone--for Mo and May deserted me--I was lost. So lost that I approached a big lady waiting at the bus stop. I was crying. "Could you please tell me where Grand Avenue is?" I asked. She scared me a little, because she had very dark skin, and I'd never seen anyone in the whole world with dark skin. She folded her large self almost in half, to get down to my level.

"Why, honey, it's right here!" She pointed up to the street sign, which because I was seven years old I could read, and she was right! Then I saw the house on the corner with the pink paint, and I was so happy I wanted to hug her.

(Later Mama told me that if she was a dark woman, she was a maid, that she did ironing for one of the ladies on our new street, but that she didn't live anywhere around us. That's why she was waiting for the bus. That made me sad. She was nicer to me than anyone had ever been. I was really hoping she lived on our street.)

My education on Walnut Street was complete the day I walked past the school on a Saturday and saw the nuns' underwear hanging out on the clothesline in the convent yard next door.

A girl grows up mighty fast once she finds out the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet wear black bras.

Posted by Katy on 09/23/03 at 01:45 PM

Fallible Comments...

I'm having my class read this as a project. Very good stuff. What a great story!

-----
Posted by timsamoff on 09/25/03 at 12:37 PM
that was awesome. :)
Posted by bethany on 09/25/03 at 06:03 PM
Tim, Wow. Thanks!

Bethany, Come to Kansas City!
Posted by katy on 09/26/03 at 08:40 AM

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Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Greg Johnson at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Follow Katy on Facebook 123 Recent Posts Try Becoming Brenda Starr Off Beat Scattered That’s It So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What? The Spoon Sciatica Sweetheart A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices. As with everything in life, balance is key. Slow down, you move too fast… Yeah, I know. I have issues. Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	One Block Over I think about Walnut Street pretty often, seeing as how it was only one block over from Grand Avenue, where I grew up. Walnut Street held way more fascination for me than Grand ever did. One of my best friends, Mary Mahoney, lived on Walnut. She was the oldest of seven girls and her mother taught me how to sew on a sewing machine when I was in the fifth grade, but that was before Mrs. Mahoney (who sewed one entire outfit per day since she had seven daughters to keep in Easter dresses) sewed right through her own finger with the machine needle and made me doubt her competence. I didn't sew much after that. My Girl Scout leaders, Mrs. Sparks and Mrs. Hymer, both lived on Walnut. They were short, middle-aged blondes with pixy cuts and stylish clothing which may or may not have been custom-made by Mrs. Mahoney--I guess I'll never know. We had Scout meetings at Mrs. Sparks' place, and she presided over me completing enough badges to fill a sash, making me feel like a plump, green, miniature Miss America: the Cooking badge, Books, Crafts, Sewing (thanks to Mrs. Mahoney), Knitting, Outdoor Life, Music, Theater, and the most coveted of all for Catholic Girl Scouts, the Marian Badge. Devotion to the Virgin Mary is not without its rewards. Later, when I was twelve or so, Mrs. Sparks started sellling Elegance make-up door-to-door out of a naughahyde bag, and I became one of her sales representatives. I bet I earned eleven dollars or so before I decided Walnut Street ladies must not be the Elegance Cosmetics type. My very first experience with Walnut was when my new seven-year-old twin friends Maureen and Marian Smith turned down the street to take the shortcut through the Scanlon's backyard in order to get to their own house on Grand Avenue. This would have been OK, except that it was my first day at St. Elizabeth's School, and Mo and May were supposed to help me find my way home. Their mom told them so. (We didn't have a car back then. My mother and father couldn't drive and besides, I was the oldest and my mom was busy with all those little kids. I walked a lot.) I didn't dare turn down Walnut Street with the twins, though they egged me on to do it. "It's OK. We do it all the time. We jump over the flowers and climb the fence and then watch out for the dog who bites and then we're there." If I followed them, I'd have to jaywalk across Grand to get to my house, and I was only allowed to cross at corners. My mother had told me to keep walking until I saw the house on the corner with the pink paint, and to cross there, turn, and walk three houses till I came to mine. Since there were no other pink houses, that's how I would find Grand Avenue. By the time I'd walked the long block alone--for Mo and May deserted me--I was lost. So lost that I approached a big lady waiting at the bus stop. I was crying. "Could you please tell me where Grand Avenue is?" I asked. She scared me a little, because she had very dark skin, and I'd never seen anyone in the whole world with dark skin. She folded her large self almost in half, to get down to my level. "Why, honey, it's right here!" She pointed up to the street sign, which because I was seven years old I could read, and she was right! Then I saw the house on the corner with the pink paint, and I was so happy I wanted to hug her. (Later Mama told me that if she was a dark woman, she was a maid, that she did ironing for one of the ladies on our new street, but that she didn't live anywhere around us. That's why she was waiting for the bus. That made me sad. She was nicer to me than anyone had ever been. I was really hoping she lived on our street.) My education on Walnut Street was complete the day I walked past the school on a Saturday and saw the nuns' underwear hanging out on the clothesline in the convent yard next door. A girl grows up mighty fast once she finds out the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet wear black bras. Posted by Katy on 09/23/03 at 01:45 PM Fallible Comments... I'm having my class read this as a project. Very good stuff. What a great story! ----- Posted by timsamoff on 09/25/03 at 12:37 PM that was awesome. :) Posted by bethany on 09/25/03 at 06:03 PM Tim, Wow. Thanks! Bethany, Come to Kansas City! Posted by katy on 09/26/03 at 08:40 AM Page 1 of 1 pages Commenting is not available in this weblog entry. Next entry: Post! Previous entry: Deep << Back to main


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Personal blog of christianwriter & fallible momKaty McKenna Raymondin Kansas City, Missouri

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One Block Over

Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri