Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands. Anne Frank.
In those early years of childhood, we were as poor as a church mouse shortly after WW2 and scrounged not only for food but anything that would make our lives more comfortable. We were a large family of seven, always hungry, nearly always naughty, we used to scream and fight, bicker and yell; it seemed we all belonged in Bedlam.
The winter months as I recall were bitterly cold and the little heating we had came from a kerosene burner and that used to stink the place out. We had no money for coal or coke and the only fuel was wood from the nearby woods, the fire was lit about once a week and twice if we were lucky. A fire meant we could also have a hot bath—what a luxury.
We spent a lot of time wrapped in blankets during mid winter supplied by the government. The beds and mattresses were also army handouts. These were no special save-your-back beds but those made from reinforced steel—or so it seemed. The springs used to stick through in several places and often one of us would wake up in the night and scream as the spring found its way into flesh. Worse, my siblings had to sleep two in a single bed for warmth and any movement would create a loud squeaks and wake us up.
You could never get a good night’s sleep because the comfort level was about zero. I used to think there were bugs harvesting in the mattress as most of us got those tiny red weal marks on our bodies. As kids we were pretty disciplined but not one of us used to like making the beds so a yelling match broke out as to whose turn it was.
Moving on to present time, I see these modern beds for kids, one in particular is called the Trundle. This comes with draws, pull-out tables, small shelves for books, a flat screen TV, a sound system and a host of other goodies that kids love. These beds cost around three grand. I’d even make the bed if I had one of those!
Friday, April 23, 2010
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