It was the summer between 1st and 2nd grade, I was six years old.
What a memorable summer it was.


I had received a pair of roller skates, that meant I no longer had to
sit on the stoop with my little friend Butchie, teaching him 
the ABC's and counting from 1 to 20. It meant I could strap the skates
onto my shoes and tighten the screws and away I could go, up
and down the sidewalk with my own skate key chain hanging
from my neck just like the big girls.


First I had to learn to skate frontwards instead of rolling back-
wards. Having accomplished that I got brave and began skating
awkwardly up and down the flat part of the sidewalk on St.
Dominique Street. I had lots of enjoyment and Butchie ran along
side me most of the time.


And Mrs. Greenberg watched me from the dark recesses of her
living room, where she sat rocking in her chair. I had always been
told she was a strange lady, she wore long skirts with a long
apron and she wore an ugly wig. She had two grown sons. Mr.
Greenberg was the local Coalman. He was a nice man who used
to come to our flat to discuss the next coal order. Most people
liked him, but nobody associated with Mrs. Greenberg, other than
her own family.


One day Butchie wasn't around and I got lonely for a friend, so I
skated up the incline part of our sidewalk toward Napoleon
Avenue where all the big girls were. But they were skating down
the center of the street and I wasn't allowed on the street, it was
too dangerous. The bigger girls began teasing me, calling me a
'fraidy cat' and telling me to go home and sit on the stoop.


I wanted them to like me and I wanted to be a big girl like them, so I
stepped off the sidewalk and skated to the center of the street. I
was so scared of the steep hill. But I shoved off and started rolling
down the hill, then I saw a car coming up the street and I veered
right towards the curb. But I lost control of my feet and crashed
onto the edge of the curb with my right forearm. I began screaming
and crying, I saw the bone in my arm trying to pop right through the
skin. Finally, my schoolmate Betsy's mom heard me and came running
to me. She picked me up and carried me home, all the while I was
screaming and crying, the pain was so bad.


No sooner did Betsy's mom get me home and put on Ma's bed,
Mrs. Greenberg came running into the flat. "Annie, oh my Annie,
what happened". Ma told her it appeared I had broken my arm
badly. Mrs. Greenberg ran home and called an ambulance (she
was the only one on the block who had a phone). Within minutes
the ambulance and police were at our home and they whisked me
away to the hospital. I spent 2 days in hospital, trying to get used 
to a cast that went up to my armpit.


When I got home, I was once again confined to sitting on the
stoop with Butchie and my doll Goldie. By now Butchie knew his
ABC's and he could count to 20. But occasionally he was away
and couldn't sit on the stoop with me, and I got lonely just having
Goldie to talk to.


One day when I was alone, Mrs. Greenberg came across the street
smiling at me, she didn't look so strange anymore. She knocked
on our door and spoke to Ma, asking her if she could take me to
her stoop for a little visit. Ma said OK, but I was not permitted
to go into the house.


Mrs. Greenberg took my hand and we crossed the street to her stoop. Her
rocking chair had been put outside and she sat down and began rocking.
She pointed to a little something on the stoop that was wrapped in wax
paper, telling me that it was for me. Eagerly I unwrapped it, and it
was a sour red raspberry candy, my favourite. So I sat on the stoop
holding Goldie in my arms and Mrs. Greenberg rocking and singing
softly in Yiddish.


We had a nice visit and many more visits, always with a sour red
raspberry candy wrapped in wax paper waiting for me on the stoop.
She even put her mark on my cast.


Mrs. Greenberg became my friend. She told me about the long skirts
and aprons and the wig. They were Orthodox and it was part of their
Religion. I didn't always understand, but I accepted what she told
me. She was no longer the strange lady across the street who
always watched me from the dark recesses of her living room, she
was my friend.

Anna Hefele / Coyote Jo
This is a true story
used with very kind permission

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Midi playing "Butterfly"