Jennifer reminded me of how awful liver and eggnog must have been. Neva J believed in the efficacy of both. Iron deficiency was foremost in the minds of parents in the 1960s. Liver every week was the panacea. Eggnog with a raw egg in the mix made me wretch. Hence, I disposed of it when I got the opportunity. Neva J garnished it with nutmeg, which did not improve the flavor. I liked hamburgers, especially from Moo & Cackel. In those halcyon days, you could purchase five for a dollar. I could have eaten them all, but had to share. I knew some pasty-faced kids and wondered if they were consuming their weekly allotment of liver. I recall visiting Dr. Montgomery in Harrisburg, where the cigarette smoke was thick in his office. The doctor smoked while he was examining me. All adults smoked at least some cigarettes. It was a rite of passage. The professionals smoked pipes, and the working folks smoked cigars or cigarettes. Some folks chewed tobacco but it was hard to tell until you looked at their protruding cheek. Those folks who did not smoke wondered as to their chosen vice. There were many unsaid and unseen things done behind the barn.

Neva J and I made Ballon Wine. It was a joint project that we enjoyed. We placed a balloon across the open gallon jug, and when it inflated, we knew it was wine time. We kept the wine jug in the basement in the dark and cool climate. We drank it in juice glasses and thought sublime thoughts. Neva J smoked Salem cigarettes and swore she did not like them, but that adults smoked some. The menthol was advertised as being safer than the Pall Malls or Luckys, which were unfiltered. Salem Menthol cigarettes were supposed to be good for your throat.

Grandma A swore by a medication called Lydia Pinkham. A cure-all for women and their female afflictions. You can still purchase Lydia Pinkham today on Amazon. We gathered at Grandma A’s house on Monday nights. Neva J’s sisters, Wanda Vema and Guelda, Neva J, and me. During the holidays, I would quote from memory the Night Before Christmas. Often Aunt Wanda would comment that she did not feel well as she was, ‘Just a flowing and flowing.’ Grandma A went to the medicine chest for Lydia Pinkham.

Cousin Billy was a master organist. The best I have heard. He practiced daily. Billy had two subjects: the Organ and Universal Monsters. His sister Brenda thought he was weird. Brenda loved Neva J. They bonded and talked for hours. Brenda babysat me on Friday nights, and we watched scary movies together. Brenda talks slowly like her dad, Bill. When asked a question, Bill would run his tongue between a gap in his lower teeth, and the questioner wondered if there would be an answer forthcoming. Bill had been a soldier in Germany in World War II. It was said by the family that Bill had killed a German but that he would not speak of it. Uncle Bill loved my dad, whom he called Junior. When Junior spoke, Bill was enraptured. Junior had fought in World War II in the Pacific. Neva J suspected that Junior had been too friendly with the Island Women. This was before their marriage. Junior was a bit rakish and a bon vivant. He rode a Harley motorcycle and wore a motorcycle hat. He carried a gun without a license. He rode my tricycle with a grin of glee.

Junior believed in Spare the rod and spoil the child. He would hold one of my hands, and we went on a macabre merry-go-round with him swatting me with his leather belt. This sounds like child abuse now, but was perfectly acceptable and encouraged for we malcontent kids of the ’60s. One day Tommy stole my pencil, and I came over to my third-grade desk to retrieve what was mine. The teacher told me I should be paddled and that she would do so if she ever caught me engaging in fistycuffs again. The next day, Tommy stole my pencil again, and in walked the teacher. I knew I was in for Corporal Punishment. However, I was comforted with the sure knowledge that Neva J would kick her ass. The teacher was saved from an ass kicking by issuing another stern lecture.