My father had a small chicken coup at our white house. Just about everyone had a "victory garden" in those days. We used to walk down to the place where the people from town had little garden plots. Everything was geared to the war effort and it seemed like that was all people talked about.
We had black out curtains on all the windows and when the air raid sirens would go off, we had to turn off all lights until they gave the all clear signal. One night we were having a hot dog roast at Grand mom's when the sirens went off and Grand pop put out the fire. We were sitting there in the dark and we heard a loud explosion towards the Delaware River a few miles away. Later that night I heard one of the grown-ups say that saboteurs hit the chemical factory.
Some of our cousins lived near by and they used to come over and play. On day we got too close to our neighbors garden and he came out and chased us with his hickory stick. He had a wooden leg and everyone called him "peg leg lutz". He was very grouchy.
Although I was not yet 4 years old, I remember very clearly the day I got my shinny new tricycle. My brother Jim got one the same day. Those tricycles got us moved to Wildwood, NJ, but that's a story for another day.
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