On my third birthday my mother gave me a doll. It was dressed in pink and had a fluffy bow and was called Betsy. I put it on my bedroom chair and never played with it. I didn’t realize then, but that was the moment I trod in my Great grandmother’s footsteps and found the determination and courage to put away childish things. My first foray into this new and exciting life actually began when I was three. Despite my mother’s opposition, I persuaded my father to take me to the local hardware store, leaving Mother behind. I wanted my Dad to buy me double ball bearing roller skates, which we both knew my Mom would never agree to. Once home with my new skates, my Mother accepted the new reality. But, said she, you can only use them to skate inside the house. That lasted a very short time. Finally I was liberated to take on everyone in the neighborhood but found that no one even dared to compete with me. My reputation as the most independent kid in the neighborhood was just beginning. Two years later at the age of 5 my Dad bought me a two wheeled bike for Christmas. We ignored the training wheels that my Mother tried to attach, and I raced off down the sidewalk. Nearby, old folks rocking in chairs on their front porches realized that their quiet afternoons were over.
