It was 1955, and the summer of my fifth year. We lived in Vallejo, California, and Mom worked a short distance away at Levi Strauss. It was her job to make and sew pockets on the jeans. Simply, this meant that I stayed with my Aunt Maggie during the day until Mom came to pick me up in the late afternoon.  Mom drove a 1948 Studebaker Commander, and on our way to Aunt Maggie’s house, we’d listen to the radio and sing along with Doris Day, Rosemary Clooney, and Patti Page. Aunt Maggie also had a radio in her living room, so Perry Como, Frank Sinatra, and Pat Boone always crooned in the background.  My love for music likely had its roots in the Studebaker and Aunt Maggie’s living room.

Each morning, when I arrived, Aunt Maggie would whisper for me to lie on the sofa and rest until my cousins, Steve and Sherry, woke up. It wasn’t long until the bedroom door opened just a little, and they would peek through the tiny crack. Oh, how I loved them both.

As soon as the cousins were up and had eaten their breakfast, we’d surround ourselves with a mountain of red books. Since neither of us could read yet, we’d spend countless hours just looking at all the pictures in The American Peoples Encyclopedia set, twenty delightful volumes in all.

Aunt Maggie would give us each a small jar with pennies for candy. The red and white candy truck made its way through the neighborhood daily. We knew this because we were always watching for it. We’d run out to greet the candy man and then step inside the back of the truck to choose our sweet treats: Sugar Babies, Bit O’ Honey, and Smarties. Occasionally, we’d entertain ourselves with red wax lips and candy cigarettes. If Aunt Maggie saw us, she quickly reminded us that Christians neither wore lipstick nor smoked—and a word to the wise was sufficient.

In the afternoon, we’d play happily with pans and spoons in the dirt until Aunt Maggie would call us to come into the house, clean up, and take a nap.

At the end of the day, Mom picked me up in the Studebaker, and we talked and listened to the radio on the way home. Life was good.