Margaret Roemer:  

Life My Pets There are people in my past that I still think of. I am grateful to these people who left thier mark on my memory. My kindergarten class at the fire station. I look at our pictures and can still name almost everyone there. My neighborhood playmates and thier parents who practiced the idea of "it takes a village to raise a child." The games of Lemonaid-what's your trade; and the "gorrillias and birdies" played late into the summer evening . Carringing a salt shaker to eat fruit from every neighbors trees: green pears, red cherries, hard peaches, blueberries and blackberrys from the woods. Looking back, it might seem as if we were feral. Staying in doors was a punishment. Even in kindergarten, I kew what it felt like to love someone for years, knowing he loved my best friend. Then after grade school, having a secret crush on the boy who was always next to me in the alphabet lineup but dated the principals daughter. The beginning highschool another secret love for the boy who made me feel like a girl, instead of a tomboy. My first slow dance, my first champion, my friend, my hero. I knew he was out of my league and out of respect for his "coolness" I never addressed him around the "popular" kids. I could not wait until school was out for the summer. Away from peer pressure we could be friends, riding the old indian paths to his side of the park looking for stuff to do. He even protected me from the advances of his older brother. People say that children forget thier "puppy" love. But I know its not true. I show my son old school pictures and next to me is his namesake from 30 years ago. Then, my best girlfiends. My first turned out to be a daughter of my mom's friend. Again, highschool segragated the cool from the "underprivilaged". Being "unique" I was discovered by another tomboy who was always pulling some caper. I was chased through the sno...Expand for more