“Mama, tell us again about 48th St.”
“There was a war on. Gramma was making bomb casings for 27 cents an hour, and our rent was $9 a month. We had to walk up three flights of stairs, and we had no hot water. We boiled water for baths and washing clothes and hung them in the kitchen to dry.”
“We had paper curtains in the kitchen. One day me and Judy were playing with matches. Judy caught the dishrag on fire, and when we tried to throw it out the window- the curtains went up. Well, Gramma like to have killed us. She was so mad! She grabbed me and Judy by the back of our undershirts and hung us both out the third floor window.
“Was she gonna drop you?”
“I don’t think so. But thank god for old Missus Leet. She saw us hanging there and yelled up, “Dorothy, don’t hurt the little tamatas!”
This was written for What Pegman Saw. Today we are on Manhattan Island N.Y.