My mother as child
The girl is my mother when she was in elementary school. The dog and boy were neighbors. I scanned this photo recently, though I've had it on the mantle in a pewter frame for years. Photoshop is miraculous! I can see the detail, now. Looking at a photograph is like looking through a tunnel to the past, with the path traveled since etched on the walls. I see her as a bright-faced child and yet also see the pains and pleasures on the path she took since then. I know my mother's life wasn't a happy one, with a pedophile for a father, and job descrimination as a Jew in WWII era Cleveland. She quit school before high school to work, and then quit a dry-cleaning job where she was referred to as "The Jew girl". She afterwards wrote "Protestant" where it asked for religion on job applications. When she was fifteen, my mother moved to "The Projects", as both my parents called it, and met my father, who was not Jewish, but a handsome boy whose first lan