I started smile lines early on
At the time of this posting, my Patrons are loving folk that have known me for nothing less than half my life and up to my entire life. That statement does not mean that those folk know nearly everything about me. Because I am old enough and wise enough now to see that memory is fallible and variable, I have decided that this is reason enough to write a memoir.

I have not yet mapped out exactly what part of my life has the most engaging stories, to build a memoir, but a sensible practice is looking back at some photos.

The portrait, above, was taken in the early Seventies. I think my family bought a special package at a Studio, as I remember several visits between 1971 and 1976. The sweater and beret were crocheted by my Great-grandmother. Eventhough the photo is blank and white, I recall distinctly the ice-cream pastels of cream, mocha, pink and blue the sweater was banded with, and that my light little dress, whose lacy collar shows, was a sherbert orange and white. And those slightly cat-eyed glasses? A tortoise shell pattern of amber and dark blue. Maybe for the best that this is in classic black and white?

I might have been wearing braces on my legs -- something like what you see young Forrest Gump wearing, although mine only came to below the knee, otherwise, at my size, I doubt that I could have hefted the extra weight. That pivotal scene of fantasy in Zumekis' Forrest Gump, when Forrrest first runs and his speed is attributed to the carrying of that extra weight, I felt the truth in that. Eventhough I rarely remember wearing leg braces in pre-school, I do know that feeling of freedom when not wearing any.