JULY 5--EARLY TODDLER TIMES

               So I return to my old photos, and muse over what must have been loving toddler times.  My father's childhood home was in Chicago (as was my mother's).  His home, on Natchez Avenue near Diversey, once was the outer western boundary of the city.  Seems so unbelievable now with our far-flung suburbs, stretching beyond the Fox River to the west!
          
          Until my Grandma (my father's mother) died when I was seven years old, we gathered at the Natchez home for many family occasions.  My "Nonna" only spoke Italian, which I did not understand.  But she spoke "cookie" and "hugs", and somehow we could easily communicate!

          During the early forties, my uncles who were in the army and navy gradually (happily) all returned from the war. My uncles who had fought in the Phillipines brought back this fetching Hawaiian ensemble, which I adorably modeled, in front of the Natchez house. (I was 2 years old, so this would be summer 1943.)

Add captioHONEY BOO BOO, EAT YOUR HEART OUT! n

          According to my adoring mother, I was quite the charmer at the Christmas Eve gathering on Natchez Avenue.  I stood in the middle of the Christmas conversations, reciting "The Night Before Christmas", and probably being benignly ignored.  (Except for aforementioned adoring mother).

          It just occurs to me that my Nonna couldn't even be impressed by my toddler performance:

         she couldn't understand one word I was saying!

          But lack of audience participation has never inhibited my social performances.  It's only lately that I (alas) have forgotten the poem.  

               

           And I now I can be adorable without that hula skirt!