|Party on State Street|
That's me on the right looking at the camera, mid-groovy move. I am wearing one of my all-time favorite pajama sets. It had an empire waist of the baby doll variety with little shorties, and delicately trimmed in bric-a-brac, which I still prefer. Once I even insisted on wearing the top as a shirt to school. Fortunately, my mother was one to allow such whimsy, and so I happily marched off to first or second grade wearing my pj top! That was a good day! My brother, in the picture, is dancing with Mary Ellen, our two-door down neighbor, who several years later while learning to drive, not only crashed into our car, but drove up on to the lawn and knocked over a 50+ year old evergreen tree. Her parents are coupled behind her, and my Dad is bent over the coffee table ... wearing his white undershirt. I think that I even see plaid shorts ... I remember those that he wore. He and my brother are sort of uniformed ... white t's, black horned glasses, and crew cuts. The little one is my sister; oh, she's up to something back there. I don't know where my Mom or baby sister are for the photo, but they are close by.
Especially in the summer, the neighbors would come over on a Saturday night for a get-together. The adults would drink Manhattans, the kids would get the coveted Pepsi-Cola that crossed the threshold on occasion, and my Dad would spin his favorite jazz records on the monophonic player. Everyone danced. Everyone sang. It would be sweaty and late before our heads ever hit the pillow. Oh we had fun! And it built in me the party, I imagine.