a New York State shield;
Happy Birthday cake that opens to a candle;
a pensive little child;
a disc that says “Susie;”
initial S;
a toddler’s push-bike, no pedals;
a roller skate; (the kind you tighten on your shoe with a skate key)
a telephone—our number was Oregon 3-9833;
a clock—time passes;
a piano—there is a cat inside!—it represents the piano my next door neighbor got when we were 6 years old; I was so jealous I hid in the closet for days and cried. I wanted to learn Moonlight Sonata;
the I LOVE YOU spinner;
my first and last 2-wheeler bike;
a little ice cream cart that opens to 2 flavors, red and green—a heart and a shamrock;(you can read about it in my poem, “1959”;
a pencil that writes, as do I;
an eraser for all of my life’s mistakes;
a book that opens to a bookworm inside;
a train, representing the subway we took every weekend, twice a weekend to Brighton Beach; (you can read about it in, “Wake Up Little Susie”;
a camera, I was the daughter of a photographer and loved to take pictures. It has a blue enamel “watch the birdie” inside;
a chaise lounge with an umbrella for the beach;
the lost cactus in a pot;
an artist’s palette;
a tv that opens; there’s a tv camera inside; (memories of all the great television shows from the 1950’s are hidden inside)
a mailbox; I was an avid letter writer;
a heart that says I Love you; I had discovered boys;
a ‘70’s looking I LOVE YOU;
a little scorpio sign;
a stave of rock & roll music; my main “stave”(one thing my mother did not dump was my collection or 45 rpm’s. Unfortunately the albums went. So long, “Dion and the Belmonts;”
a phonograph player that opens to a record;
and it ends with my 1966 graduation from High School.

My youth has been rewritten.