I was a skinny 11-year-old girl going from store to store in downtown El Dorado Springs looking for work. Being tall, I could pass for thirteen but they had a way of asking my age first thing, so I had to admit to being only eleven.  I was usually told they’d had kids thirteen years old but never eleven.  No employment was found.  Not even at the drugstore I loved so much with its amazing smells,  paddle fans, ice cream, and comic books.

Later, when I was old enough, I did find employment at the 4-Corner Diner.  Then I could buy the black and white saddle oxfords, can-cans for underneath my dresses, even those hideous hoops that were in style.  How on earth did we manage to sit down!  I seem to remember that they went out of style pretty quickly.

The three-story school building that we attended had concrete steps and I don’t recall ever using a handrail – or even if we had any.  I just zipped up and down them, no problem, and never stumbled.  Now I would have a hard time with them even with a handrail.